La Belle et le Bossu
by QuasimodoLeBossu
Summary: Beauty was found within. Thanks to her, he understood that now. AU. Quasimodo/Belle.
1. Quasimodo

**A/N: Yes. I am very much aware that this is a crossover fic. HOWEVER, I am about to get very technical. Seeing as how Belle did in fact make a cameo appearance in the movie, it doesn't quite have to be considered one. My reason for placing this story here is one word: Feedback. While Hunchback of Notre Dame is, unfortunately, already a seldom enough viewed corner of fanfiction as it is, a crossover one is even less likely to be read. Especially from a new unknown author such as myself. I plan to write and complete this entire story and a way that would totally help me to be able to do so would be your thoughts and opinions. They really are truly appreciated. I would like to be able to write this story for the enjoyment of the people, not just for my own amusement. All right... now that that's out of the way.**

**Let me begin by saying I find this pairing to be remarkably endearing and wonderful. I do not quite know what possessed me to write this, the entire story just came to me in a dream one night. I am going to start and finish this story nonetheless. Quasimodo deserves his happy ending, confound it! Anyways, there will be both elements of Disney and Victor Hugo's amazing novel when it comes to my base for Hunchback of Notre Dame with it leaning more towards Disney. The characters I use from Beauty and the Beast will be completely based on their Disney movie. Now for the biggest part:**

**DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters or settings that occur in this story, however the plot is mine and shall remain so! Please enjoy!  
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Chapter - 1

Quasimodo

The sun had begun to rise slowly over the city of Paris, surrounding it in its warm embrace. Shades of oranges and reds cast themselves on the many crowded buildings, making even the most ordinary of places look strangely beautiful with brilliant and rich color. Though nothing could compare to the passionate, elegant ringing emitted from Paris's own Notre Dame. Every morning as the town slowly came to life again, the bells were what signaled the dawning of a new day. While the bells were beautiful, no one ever noticed them anymore. Unfortunately they were taken for granted. They rang day in and day out without fail. It was just a part of life. No matter how enchanting, they were simply another tick, passing down the hours. It was just how things were. No one ever questioned it. And, of course no one ever questioned the ringer of the bells of Notre Dame.

The only remote trace of him that had ever been spotted was the occasional strange silhouetted shadow against the swaying bells; and even then it was gone before even being fully noticed. Some believed the bellringer to be a ghost or perhaps an apparition of some sort. The more rational lot believed that he was simply a solitary fellow who preferred only the bells and the grimacing gargoyles for company. All that was known about him was that he lived in isolation, kept to himself, caused no trouble… and that there was something- well, wrong with him.

Not a soul in Paris could say what, and with how busy their daily lives were, none really cared to stop and think much on it. But, one thing was for certain: anyone who stayed up in those towers and never mingled among the rest of the town had to have a problem of some sort. But, as stated before: with how the minds of all the cookie-cutter folk of Paris worked, it didn't concern them, so they did not care.

Eventually, the loud thunder of the bells began to grow steadily softer. Soon, only the simplest vibration of their previous sound resonated throughout the cathedral in all its entirety. And, in no time at all, everything then was still.

While the streets of Paris were rich with noise from the hustle and bustle of the crowds going about their morning, those sounds just did not seem to reach Notre Dame. The cathedral loomed over the square solemnly and elegantly, protecting her great city in all her towering silence. There was, however, some commotion occurring high up in the South Tower as a small flurry of pigeons took flight, the slightest flutter of their wings the only sound flecking against the sky.

In the South Tower, from the shadows of the majestic bells a figure emerged. His gait was lame and his frame stooped over by an unusual, but unmistakable raise in his twisted vertebra. The moment the sunlight hit his face, it could easily be explained why no one had laid eyes on him. To say this man was hideous would be an understatement. Under a shock of auburn hair, his face was uneven and twisted- almost as if he had been put upon the earth before he was completely made-; a large wart nearly covered the poor wretch's left eye. There was nothing that could be compared to him, even the gargoyles seemed to sneer in horror, their timeless faces frozen in that manner. He was an owl among doves. He was the bellringer. He was Quasimodo.

He smiled meekly at the sky as the sun trickled in and warmed his face, it being the only thing that could ever not be repulsed by him. _By a monster._ Even his master would look down at him with cruel, leery eyes whenever he visited for his weekly lessons. Or rather, they used to be weekly. As the years passed, Quasimodo began to see less of his master. Now it came down to where he never knew when to expect him, sometimes going weeks on end without a sighting. While his master was not always great company, he was all the human interaction that he ever had, and the only link to the outside world. It was easy to say as a dog misses his owner when he goes on long trips, Quasimodo pined for his master

It could not be helped, for the man- practically boy still, was raised by him since infancy. After he was left seemingly abandoned on the steps of Notre Dame, his master took him in, taught him to read and write, educated him in the Catholic faith, as well as educating him in his own sin: his deformity. Oh yes, Quasimodo was well aware of his ugliness; he knew that it was because of this that he was forced to remain in his nest above the cathedral. He never questioned it, for his master always knew what was best for him and all that was ever done for him was for his own good. Even so, while he was reminded of it by his master, quite often he would forget. It wasn't that he thought himself handsome or even remotely attractive, he just… didn't think about it. His hideousness was a part of him. The only time in which he was ever made aware of it was if he were to accidentally pass a reflective surface.

If there was one thing about him that was not touched by his hideousness, it was his eyes. While one was partially covered, that still did not take away from their distinctive and expressive blue-green color. His eyes were clever, sincere, and gentle; certainly not the eyes of a monster. For one who knew so little of what was beyond the bells and the parapets, it almost seemed as if the hunchback had the entire world reflected in his eyes. There was an endless patience there, and an acceptance that would never be reciprocated. Living in solitude all his life gave him a greater understanding of life than what most any other normal person could even dream of having.

Despite his isolation, Quasimodo rarely was bored. Quite the imaginative one, he always came up with ways to keep himself occupied. A very obvious hint of that was the table in the center of his little room in the South Tower. Upon the small table was an exact replica of the Notre Dame square, little carvings of all the people that lived in the village scattered throughout it. Quasimodo knew more of the citizens of Paris and their lives then they even knew of his existence. In the small, carved version of Notre Dame, Quasimodo had his own figurine placed, just like in real life, observing all the action he was missing. But, right now his little city masterpiece was far from his mind as he made his way towards a different direction.

"I think I am twenty years old today," he said to no one in particular. Or so it appeared. What the real world saw and what Quasimodo saw were two very different things. While the tower in which he resided in currently seemed silent, save for the occasional noise from Notre Dame's square, to Quasimodo, his entire home was alive with the voices of the gargoyles and the bells. To him, they were as alive as the people below him that he would never meet. And -unlike those people- the gargoyles listened to him with great interest every time he parted his lips to speak. Even then, Quasimodo did not view himself above them. They were all equals, him and the gargoyles. Both condemned to live in eternal ugliness; a darker stain upon the already imperfect world.

The bells however, were a different story. They were beyond anything his already expansive mind could comprehend. As well as everything else in the world, save the gargoyles, the bells were above Quasimodo… in fact, he believed them to almost be right up there with Mary and the angels. A part from his master, they were his greatest loves, his beauties, and he cared for and protected them like a lioness looked after her young. He whispered soft secrets that not even the gargoyles knew to them. And oh- when he made them sing! There was no greater joy in the world that he felt whenever he pulled the ropes, gripped by his powerful and massive hands, listening to the glorious sounds in which they made.

When he was swinging along with them, it was the only place in which his deformity could not cripple him; where he could move effortlessly and gracefully through them all as if he were almost flying. It was the only beauty he felt that he could still be a part of without being scorned. And, it was a beauty he could share with everyone in Paris. There was just one catch – as there always was- the bells he rang for all of them… never rang for him.

"I mean, I believe it is somewhere around this time," Quasimodo continued, correcting himself with chagrin. "I can't be sure, but I remember Frollo said he had found me in the early winter season and now it is almost fall..."

The gargoyles just stared menacingly back at him, but he was sure that he heard their whispers of approval and agreement. Quasimodo could not say for certain how he felt about being yet another year older. It never really seemed like anything important to him. No gifts were received, no words of encouragement. It was only another day that rose and fell with the sun. There was just... something that seemed off to him.

"You know, that means I've lived up here for twenty years now."

Now, he was really just thinking out loud rather than making conversation with his friends. Twenty years of knowing nothing more than the stone interior of this marvelous domain. Twenty years living almost completely alone.

…Twenty years without talking to anyone other than his friends and his master.

Despite what he had been raised to know, there was just something that seemed very wrong about that. At the same time, he was fully aware of his condition.

"Hello Quasimodo," an all too familiar voice sounded suddenly behind him.

The poor boy whipped his head around, his muscles tightening as his body tensed. Standing at the top of the long stair well, was the menacing, solemn form of Judge Claude Frollo. For just a moment, Quasimodo felt a rare thrill of happiness course through him, thinking that perhaps Frollo had come because he remembered that today was… special. But, as he gazed up at his towering master's eyes, there was, as usual, a wall that blocked him from ever understanding, from ever truly knowing.

"I-its good t-to see you again, M-Master," he fumbled, his voice significantly softer and more timid than it had been before when he was speaking with the gargoyles.

"I do apologize my dear boy. I know I've been gone for quite some time. The abominations of Paris refuse to follow the law. And, when that happens, you know very well I am kept away," Frollo said, his voice cold yet fluid without even a trace of a sincere apology laced in it.

"Oh yes, M-master. I know you d-don't always have time for me. I-I-I wouldn't ask such a thing of you," he said, his words frantic as if he were afraid of angering Frollo even though he had done nothing wrong.

As Frollo moved further into the room, Quasimodo fell into step behind him, following him like a servant, a servant within his own home. It continued this way as the two sat down at a table and began a lesson, Quasimodo thrilled for the opportunity to please the man who raised him.

Nearly an hour went by before Frollo began to grow quite visibly bored. Quasimodo immediately seemed to pick up on his disinterest and tried to cover up the painful look that seemed determined to stretch across his face.

"You did well, Quasimodo," Frollo said, shutting his book in a rather exaggerated manner before he stood from his seat, "Your Latin is improving."

"Th-thank you, Master."

The deformed man's eyes brightened momentarily before they quickly flickered out like the dousing of a flame. Frollo was about to leave, coming back who knew when. Before the judge could turn all the way around he caught sight of the distraught look on Quasimodo's face. Figuring that he at least should pretend to be interested in his pain considering he had been gone for nearly a month, he paused.

"What is troubling you, boy?" he asked, not bothering to hide the reluctance in his voice.

Quasimodo's eyes widened for a moment as he realized that Frollo had caught on to his behavior. Unlike his master's eyes, his were like an open book. Quasimodo had no reason to hide anything. He never had anyone to hide something from and Frollo hardly paid attention as it was.

"What? O-oh nothing, Master. I-I-I was just thinking… I-I've lived up here for, well, for twenty years," he mumbled slightly, wondering if Frollo would get the hint at all what today was. His assumption proved incorrect as the tall man just started condescendingly down at him for a moment in question.

"Yes, very good, Quasimodo. Your counting is accurate. And the bell tower is an ideal place for one such as yourself to spend your life," Frollo said, his voice turning just a hint sharper as he reached the end of his sentence.

"Oh, well of course-" Quasimodo stopped the moment he saw Frollo pulling something from his robes, knowing very well what it was.

Frollo saved it only for moments like these when it was needed. When the hunchback questioned his place in both the world and under God. The mirror was soon shoved right in the wretch's face and Quasimodo could not help but reel back at his own reflection, his eyes growing glassy as he was once again reminded of the horror that was his sin and the reason for his isolation. Looking brokenly to Frollo, he covered his face with his large hands, feeling overwhelmingly ashamed of himself.

Frollo's eyes narrowed.

"Exactly. You see my dear boy; this is why you are kept up here. You are nothing but a monster to the citizens of Paris. And, they will not hesitate to treat you as such. You belong here. With the gargoyles, the bells, the darkness, and with God. Only they can keep you safe from the horrors of this treacherous world."

While Frollo's bottomless eyes seemed to seethe into the poor fellow, Quasimodo in turn could not meet his gaze even after he brought his hands from his face, his own eyes focused on a random crack in the floor board, or a wood shaving from one of his carvings… anywhere but his master's face.

"Y-yes… you're right Master. I j-just, I-"

"Good day Quasimodo."

And with a turn of his dark robes, the judge was gone and Quasimodo was left alone with the gargoyles, feeling impossibly small.

His eyes stared after the spot in which Frollo had disappeared for a very long time, only breaking from the place when he suddenly heard the sound of children chanting some sort of game outside in the square. Quasimodo slowly turned his head in the direction where the parapets were, but remained rooted to the spot. Just barely could he feel the wind rustling in against his face. He turned away and sighed, fully aware of his wistful thinking.

The familiar sound of fluttering wings sounded off again as a small flock of pigeons flew by. Never would he be like them. Never would he fly. He would always be in this stone cage, a prisoner in his own home. Frollo's previous words were still ringing in his ears just as clear and loud as the bells he held so dear.

"Only a monster…"

**A/N: Alas, I know that this chapter hits quite closely to the beginning of the movie, however I found it important to both practice my characterizations on these two (having never written for them before) as well as emphasizing the powerful influence Frollo holds over Quasimodo as it will eventually be brought out more in later chapters. Don't worry, you'll be meeting Belle very soon.**

**And, if it really angers people enough and I get flames galore, then I suppose I would be able to move it to the crossover section, I just hope that you all see my reasoning. I mean no one wants to write a story for nothing.  
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**Please forgive any historical inaccuracies, and so forth, I tried my best. Now. Please please please go forth and review. Your thoughts and opinions will make writing this story all the more enjoyable for me. And with as much as I dearly love my Quasimodo... that is saying a lot! Thanks for taking the time to read, more coming soon!**


	2. Belle

**A/N: Well, to those who are actually reading this, here is the second installment of this unusual tale. Two familiar faces are introduced here I am happy to say. Enjoy!**

Chapter 2 –

Belle

A few miles from Notre Dame square, the repetitive wheel of Paris's daily life kept on turning; at least, until it was disturbed by two new faces, father and daughter, wandering into the premises. Upon first sight there was nothing really all that peculiar about the pair apart from the strangely shaped object covered by a blanket in the back of their horse-drawn wagon. However, as with most things, there was more to them than what met the eye. The one driving was a short and portly man who looked to be around his mid-fifties. His eyes were tired but merry and there was an unusual light in them, as if he constantly had something important on his mind.

Speaking of unusual, there are few words to describe the vision of the celestial beauty that sat beside him. Her kind face appeared bright and welcoming as her large, hazel eyes searched curiously about her in wonder at this new place they were coming to. There was a flame in her heart, one that could easily be seen through her intelligent eyes, a flame that burned for knowledge and understanding of everything. The fact that a book rested in her lap just seemed to prove the point, especially since usually women barely took the time to read and instead preferred to stay indoors and serve their families to the best of their abilities.

As she looked around, she couldn't help but feel her stomach sink uncomfortably as she realized with great sadness that this place seemed very similar to the little village she and her father had just temporarily left. The only difference between Paris and back home was that this place was much bigger. All the people here seemed just as those in her village… too busy with their own lives to notice the wonderful things in life that was usually taken for granted.

The first thing that she noticed when she and her father drew closer to the gates was the smell. The air was rich with the pleasant thick scent of a bakery somewhere further down the town, yet there was also an almost aged, wooden smell telling her just how long this city had been here. It was definitely much more beautiful than any other place she had been, and there surely were many places for her to explore once she was given the chance. For now though, she knew she had to stay with her papa until they found the small cottage they would be staying in for the next few weeks or so.

The next thing she noticed was how very loud it was. It seemed as if no matter where she was, there were conversations going on somewhere, or people shouting. Everything here seemed a lot more fast-paced than she was used to. Instead of being intimidated, however the young woman found herself growing in excitement.

"Are you sure we didn't take a wrong turn somewhere?" she asked, her voice feminine yet heavy with charisma. There was an obvious teasing note in her question, hinting that her father had been notorious in the past for getting them, mostly himself, lost.

A small playful smile stretched across the man, Maurice's face as he gently nudged his daughter.

"Very funny, Belle. I'm sure I know where we're going. I have the name written down right here. Now all we need to do is pass through this gate and find it. I know you're ready to explore and I promise once we get settled in, you will be free to look around as much as you like," he said warmly.

Belle nodded her head, trying very hard to hide the eagerness that was in her heart at the thought of finally getting to walk around instead of sitting in this wagon like she had been for almost three straight days. Maurice seemed to pick up on her new found energy and slightly urged their horse, Philippe onward.

Their quickened pace did not last long however when suddenly just as they were passing through the gates, they were stopped by a few guards. There was nothing friendly or welcoming by their faces as they came close to them, their cold, accusing eyes set on the wagon.

"State your purpose here," one of them commanded, looking at Maurice. Belle did not like where this was going at all, especially with how they were looking at her father

"Really this isn't necessary-" she was silenced by a stern, but gentle look from Maurice before he himself began to speak.

"Certainly. My daughter and I have traveled here from very far away in hopes of making a better life for ourselves. We won't be here for more than a couple weeks," he explained, hoping that maybe that might reassure the guards how they really meant no harm at all.

One of the guards, eyeballing them and their wagon, walked around to the back, finding the strangely shaped covered object a little more than suspicious. With a narrowed glance at the newcomers, he took the tip of his spear and jabbed at the object. Belle frowned in disapproval.

"Please, be _careful_," she said, unable to stop herself. That was her father's greatest achievement under there and there was no way she would let those guards think they could get away with causing any harm to it. Her genius father had worked far too long and hard to have his wonderful invention be destroyed by a couple ignorant brutes. In fact, the way these men carried themselves and went about acting as if they were all high and mighty because they had a sword or spear reminded her unpleasantly of someone back home in her village that she always tried her hardest to avoid.

Belle quickly focused her attention back to the present, not wanting her thoughts to end up to where they were headed. Instead, she focused back on the guard who had had the audacity to so rudely jab at their own belongings. She really wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but she knew that that would have been hypocritical of her, for she herself was very curious and often found herself in places that she probably shouldn't be. This was completely different. What she did was for fun, what they were doing almost seemed to her as if they were giving them a hard time just because they were outsiders and just because they could.

Unfortunately, the guard found Belle's reaction to be more than suspicious and without even hesitating, he grabbed a hold of the blanket and ripped it off from whatever it was that it was covering.

"What in God's name is this?"

Immediately two other guards were at his side investigating what it was that had so startled their companion. It was the strangest contraption that they had ever seen, a mass of woods and metals mended together to form a peculiar shape.

Maurice cleared his throat in preparation to speak, completely ready to talk about his greatest pride and joy (other than Belle of course). Inventing things was his obsession after all, and when it came to explaining them, well… he could go on for practically for forever.

"Why, it's my invention. I've been working on it for years. It can chop wood in less than half the time it takes an average human. I made it to help others that might not be able to or not have the time. Really, it's completely harmless," he explained.

The guards exchanged skeptical glances before the other took the cover and threw it back over the contraption.

"There havve been mass hordes of gypsies sneaking into the city lately. We had to be sure you weren't…hiding any of those lot," the first guard explained, a tiny bit more civil than earlier now that he knew they weren't harboring gypsies in the back of their wagon.

"And what is wrong with gypsies?" Belle suddenly challenged, her eyes hard.

"Belle-" Maurice tried to warn.

She looked at him in complete bewilderment. From all that she had known of the gypsies (which really wasn't too much to brag about), they never seemed anything more than care free entertainers that weren't afraid to be bold in their actions and their choices. Belle actually found their elaborate colors, exotic dances, and unique lifestyle very intriguing. She couldn't imagine how someone could be against them calling a place like this home.

The guard rounded on Maurice then, his features clearly marred with annoyance by the spitfire girl.

"You would do well to teach that girl her place," he said, jerking his head in Belle's direction.

"And you would do well to learn some manners," Belle said before turning away from both the guards and focusing on something else in the opposite direction, completely done with the conversation they were having. The guard was about to open his mouth and say something when his companion nudged him. It was best not to get into pointless spars with the peasant folk. That only led to aggravation and trouble.

Maurice ran his hand down his face before looking at the guards both submissively and apologetically. Though he really did support his daughter in her opinions, he was not inclined to say anything of the like for he knew that if he were, they probably would spend the day in a cell with how these brutes were acting.

"Best be on your way. I'd be careful who you show that contraption to. There are many who live here who don't exactly enjoy things that go outside the norm…" the second guard said, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Belle, or rather the back of her head. "And I'd be careful about letting your child out on the streets. Women who are too smart for their own good are only a nuisance and not appreciated here."

Before Belle could whip around with another comeback, Maurice clicked his tongue and sent Philippe at a brisk trot, putting as much distance between them and the guards as he could without appearing obvious about it.

The guards watched them go before one turned to the other.

"We need to keep a close eye on them. I have a feeling Claude would not be pleased that we let them in," he said a bit nervously, picturing the Judge's calm, but menacing face towering over him. What was so frightening about that man was just how… serene he was. Even when Frollo was livid, there was this unexplainable calm about him that put just about everyone on edge.

"They had nothing to hide. We had no reason to turn them away. If we do watch them, we'll need to pay special close attention to that girl. No good can come from the likes of her wandering about the streets. Did you see how defiant she was? She was just like one of those gypsies…." The first guard said, still very much annoyed that he didn't get to say what he wanted to earlier.

"Very well, it's decided I suppose. For now we'll just report what all we've seen today to Frollo and go from his orders," said the second guard. And so, when their shift ended, the two made their way towards the Palace of Justice.

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><p>Maurice and Belle rode in silence for a while, both quite shaken up by the little exchange back at the gates. Eventually though Maurice cleared his throat and began to speak.<p>

"Belle, you must be more careful here. The people in this city have different views than those back at home."

The young woman sighed in quiet aggravation.

"Papa, they are _exactly _like those back home. They are afraid of what is different. I am tired of being treated like this only for thinking in my own way. It is not right," she said. It was her strong belief that no one should be treated unfairly just because their own views weren't the same as those in the majority. This probably came from years and years of being called 'odd' for her father's gifted mind and because if her love for reading and learning and her free-spirited nature.

She had never been the kind of girl like those back at home who showed no interest in books and seemed completely satisfied with just following some arrogant brute around, constantly at his beckon call. That had never been the life for her and it never would be. And, perhaps that was why she found the ways of the raven-haired gypsies so fascinating.

Belle peeked over at her father out of the corner of her eye, surprised to see a small, distant smile on his round face.

"You are no doubt your mother's daughter," he said softly.

Belle's pleasant lips slowly quirked upwards in a sad smile and she patted his hand.

The rest of the way there, they road in silence, but it was a comforting, mutual one. Almost as if one already knew what the other was saying without any words at all. Thus was the special relationship between Belle and Maurice. Two gifted, beautiful minds.

Eventually (after maybe three wrong turns later), they reached their little rented out cottage. It was a charming place of stone, wood, and straw and Belle felt that for the next couple weeks she and her father would be very content there.

It wasn't anything impressive and it was at least several square feet smaller than their house back in the village they had journeyed from, but as they made their way inside, it was clear that the 'home' feeling was there. There were only three rooms: the main area which was the kitchen, the other two just simple bed rooms. Father and daughter didn't ask for much though, just a roof over their heads, bread on the table, candlelight to read by, and a place for Philippe to stay. And, considering all their needs were accounted for, they saw all was good.

Belle was now officially restless and found herself frequently looking out the kitchen window each time she passed it while helping her father with minor things around their new home. It didn't take Maurice long at all to pick up on his daughter's expected behavior and he smiled and shook his head. They had his invention unloaded as well as everything up and running at the cottage, and Philippe was fed and watered; perhaps now was a good time to let her do what she always seemed so thrilled to do.

"You can go look around now Belle, if you'd like," he said.

Belle turned eagerly from the counter she was washing, her eyes bright. But, she hesitated for a moment before getting too excited.

"But, don't you need help setting up your masterpiece, Papa?" she asked, not wanting to leave him alone to do such a thing. He wasn't exactly as spry as he used to be.

Maurice shook his head.

"I'll be fine. Now that it's off the cart, it will be easy to manage," he said, not being able to help the glimmer of pride he felt for having made such a clever, helpful thing.

The young woman smiled and threw her arms around the inventor, holding him tight for a moment. It was easy to say by the way in which Maurice held her back that he never got tired of those kind of embraces.

"Off with you," he said, patting her shoulder, "and _do_ be careful, Belle. Don't be getting yourself into places that you shouldn't." At this, he gave her a knowing look. Oh yes, Maurice was very much aware of her curious mind.

A light laugh emitted from his daughter before she nodded her head in agreement.

"I'll be home before nightfall, Papa, I promise," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. With that, she pranced over to the table, picked up her small basket that held her book and was off. The anticipation of exploring just seemed to melt away her previous aggravation with the judgmental guards. Perhaps not everyone was like that and they simply behaved that way because that was what their job called for.

As she made her way out the door and into the streets, she couldn't help the smile that seemed to light up her whole face. A new start. A new adventure. It almost filled her with the same amount of excitement that she felt whenever she was opening to the first page of a brand new book.

**A/N: Eh, not the greatest ending to the chapter, but I thought I'd leave it open. More on the way soon, promise!**

**Oh and don't forget, review s'il te plaît! (:  
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	3. The Heart of Paris

**A/N: I at first wasn't very pleased with this chapter, but I ended up adding a few things here and rewriting another thing there and now I can say I actually really like how this ended up. Please enjoy :]**

Chapter – 3

The Heart of Paris

"Excuse me?" Frollo's calm, calculating voice filled the large dungeons of the Palace of Justice. It was a wonder that a voice that wasn't even raised could fill and take up every dark alcove of such a huge place, but the judge could manage. He did not have to be loud to get his point across.

The two guards shuffled their feet on the dusty floor uneasily.

"We found four gypsies today, but they got away before we could take them in," the first one said. Frollo's brow wrinkled in displeasure.

"With assistance of witchcraft no doubt," he said, disgust heavy in his voice. He was really beginning to grow tired of their games of hide and seek. He was oh so very aware that they had a hiding place, he had been tracking it for years; it was now just a matter of exposing the hellhole.

The larger of the two guards stepped forward hesitantly.

"That's not all of it, Monsieur Frollo. Two outsiders came through the gates today as well-"

"You _did_ check for gypsies, yes?" Frollo asked, rounding on them abruptly. There was now a hint of real anger in his speech rather than the deadly calm from earlier now that he assumed there were even _more_ of those blasphemous heathens running around Paris.

"Yes, Monsieur, of course!" The guard said frantically, "It's just, the outsiders- there's something unnerving about them-"

"The woman _reads_! Books!" The second guard interjected.

The first one that spoke looked at him in irritation as this was the second time in which he had been interrupted trying to explain the situation. He cleared his throat.

"As I was saying_, _they had this… this thing, this contraption with them; it wasn't like anything I've ever seen."

Frollo regarded the man in silence, his mind going a mile a minute as it tried to figure out what on earth the buffoon could be going on about and if it was really worth his time to look into. The news of something so strange sounding was unsettling though. He did have to admit that.

"…I mean perhaps it's nothing, but we thought that those two were suspicious and that maybe you would want to see for yourself and decide if there should be anything done with them or if we should leave them be. They're supposedly not going to be here long any-"

"They travel? Are you sure they are not gypsies?" Frollo asked, his interest recaptured.

The guard tried his hardest to hide the annoyance upon being interrupted for the _third_ time.

"They were too civilized. Well- the man was. There was something odd with the girl." The first guard took a breath, relieved to have actually finished a sentence for the first time in a while.

Frollo had heard enough. While he was at first skeptical on how this could even be worth his time, the sound of these newcomers and their unusual ways did not sound appealing to him in the least bit.

The gypsies were a group of people, and he hardly even considered them _human_, that he simply could not and _would not_ tolerate. Their way of life and audacity to live outside the law and God as they did was absolutely preposterous to him. In his opinion, he just knew this whole city would be better off purged of them and with the power that he had, that was exactly what Frollo planned to do; even if he had to pick them off one by one. These newcomers, while possibly not being gypsies sounded just as equally suspicious to him and Frollo was going to see for himself who they were before deciding on locking them up and doing away with them just as he had with so many others.

"Very well. We shall pay them a visit soon and look into it. Good day," he said in dismissal.

The two guards nodded their heads in acknowledgment before departing. Frollo watched them leave before heading off towards a nearby chamber where a captured gypsy fearfully awaited questioning and most likely torture.

* * *

><p>Belle moved eagerly about the winding, crowded streets of Paris, her eyes wide as she looked around her. There was certainly more to do here than where she had lived before. And, Belle noticed with delight that this place had a library as well, though as she looked closer she realized that it was dark and looked near deserted. Such a tragic scene was piercing to her heart and Belle found herself looking away. At least they had a place with books and perhaps she would investigate more on it later once she got familiar with the city.<p>

Children ran about happily, chasing each other, their laughs rising above the droning chatter of the Parisians going about their day. She smiled as one child almost ran right into her, watching him run frantically, his eyes wide with mock fear.

"Hey! Get back here gypsy!"

Belle quickly turned her head around at the sudden shout from behind her. The sight she was met with was quite an amusing one.

Two guards, different from the ones at the gate, on horseback were in hot pursuit of a dark-haired man deked in various shades of purples who seemed hardly phased that he was being chased as he winded and twisted his way through parting crowds of rather bemused people. Effortlessly he ran, grabbing ahold of the bottom of an awning and flipping himself on top. Through all this he miraculously managed to keep his large hat safe on his head. Belle gasped in wonder at his grace.

"Get down there at once! You're under arrest!" the guard hollered.

The gypsy just simply stood there and regarded him in silence for a moment, obviously not taking him seriously at all.

"Under what charges?" he asked mockingly, "Breathing? Oh I'm such a scoundrel!" The gypsy did a backflip further up the awning. He now had the attention of the entire crowd in the area, and he clearly enjoyed every moment of it.

"You have until the count of three or my arrow _will _fire!"

"Oh, _will_ it?" The gypsy pretended to be terrified as he clutched at his face like a damsel, "In that case, down I go!" And with that he cartwheeled right off the awning and onto the ground. Unfortunately, through all this his hat lost contact with his head and landed right at Belle's feet. Looking around, she picked it up quickly, not really knowing why she had.

"All right, gypsy, let's go," the guard said, coming towards the colorful rascal.

The gypsy smirked. It was definite by the look on his face that he wasn't going anywhere.

"I believe I said I'd come down, but I _never_ said I'd go with you," he exclaimed, backing up towards the wall behind him. Just then the sound of a bleating goat could be heard somewhere above him.

Out of nowhere a rope appeared on the side of the tall cottage the gypsy was standing by. Belle was so distracted by the appearance of the rope that she didn't notice that the gypsy was suddenly right next to her.

"Oh!" she gasped in surprise once she realized as such. The gypsy looked at her for a brief moment before giving her a playful smile and grasping the hat gently from her hands

"I'll be taking that, chérie," he said with a wink before bounding backwards just as the guards reached him. Laughing merrily, he grabbed the rope. "Adieu ladies and gents! You've been too kind!" As the rope began to pull up, he waved his hat at them all in dismissal and then placed it back on his head. In no time at all, he vanished.

"Hey!" It was no use. The gypsy was gone without a trace. The guards swore their frustrations.

Belle watched the spot in which he had disappeared in wonder before deciding it was time to move along. The guards looked pretty upset, and she had already had her fair sure of cranky guards today.

Well, she certainly didn't quite know what to think of what had just occurred… it was exciting that was sure. And, for one fleeting moment, Belle felt the incredible yearning to follow that gypsy man and whoever else that had been up there that had come to his aid. Certainly their adventures would be a lot more thrilling than what she was currently partaking in.

With one last look over her shoulder, Belle continued onward.

In all the confusion, she blended in fairly well with the crowd so far. This was something she found strange yet refreshing. For so long everyone at her village always knew her to be the odd one who read books and went on little adventures while her hermit of a father secluded himself in his cellar and worked on God only knew what. Spontaneous explosions were a normal thing at their home after all.

Now, these people here knew nothing about her and so she was just another nameless face on the streets. Belle could definitely say she was all right with that. The only double takes she did receive were usually unknown to her and they were from young men or envious women noticing how pretty she was. It was only when she finally caught a man several years older than she staring profusely at her that Belle felt uncomfortable enough to hide her face by burying it in her book.

She was just getting to a good part too. Once she had pulled out her novel and began to read, it had hardly been two minutes when she heard hushed voices.

"Is that a book?"

"How strange…"

"Is she _reading_?"

"Not right -"

Choosing to ignore this as she always had, Belle read on with her legs steering her around others as she continued her little random route through the streets. Well, a part from a different location, she was sad to come to the revelation that the people of Paris were very similar to what she already knew.

They all judged before truly understanding, before even bothering to take the time to get to know the mystery behind the oddness. There was no one who appreciated knowledge like she did, no one she could really talk to. All her life, a part from her father, she had had only books for comfort. But, it was never hard to please Belle and so she grew up very much okay with it. After all, what better friend then a book? It could open up so many different windows to other places, places that she could only imagine going to someday.

Oh how passionately she felt about this! There was just no one she could ever really share it with. Her father, while supportive of her beautiful mind, just did not share the same interest in books that she did. He enjoyed using his imagination on creating things with his own abilities and not limiting himself to directions, while she enjoyed losing herself in the wonder that was her imagination to a place all her own where anything could happen.

If Belle ever stopped to think about it, she would realize how lonely she truly was. But, that wasn't her. She did not dwell in self-pity, nor did she allow herself to live in sadness when there was so much more happiness and hope in the world to look to. She had her books. She had her Papa. And, she had her own mind. As long as she had those three things, she could live among these provincial people and their dull clockwork lives.

At least, that was what she could try to convince herself. But, Belle's mind wasn't there anymore. She was far away in her fantasy world. A world she could only get to with the aid of her books.

As what normally happened when she started to get into what she was reading, the whole world around her faded away while she left her shoes and entered into those of the fearless protagonist. Belle lost complete track of where she was in space.

That was, until she heard the bells.

The young woman froze in her tracks the moment the chiming began. She had never quite heard a sound like it before and for a moment she looked up from her book, mystified (there were few things on this earth that could get Belle to tear her gaze away from her beloved stories).

There was no distinct melody, but there was no doubt that it was music; the thunderous sounds all blending and melding together, rising and falling as one to form a symphony of mysterious beauty. A small smile on her face, the girl found herself slowly swaying back and forth along with the prominent rhythm as if she were one of the triumphant bells herself.

Doubtless this earned her more stares from a many passer-by, but seeing as how that had never stopped her before, Belle just kept on swaying away, moving to her own music. Those bells… there was just something about them. They had life, they had a soul, a voice. Belle, normally rather good with words, could not think of a single one to describe them no matter how hard she tried. She ceased her moving and began to wander in the direction in which the bells were coming from, which was hard for it almost seemed as if they were singing to her from everywhere.

As soon as she rounded the corner of a rather tall cottage, she was met with the sight of the most magnificent, gothic structure rising out of stone, looming over the city in all her glory. Belle had read about this wondrous cathedral. It was Notre Dame.

All previous thoughts on the encounter with the gypsy completely disappeared as she simply stared in wonder and awe.

Slowly, the bells began to fade away and all she was left with were the powerful vibrations still thrumming wildly in her heart. Despite her previous negative feelings about this place, suddenly she found herself feeling a little better. At least she knew now this city had a heart: Notre Dame. And the ringing bells were its heart beat.

* * *

><p>The tolling of the bells just barely reached the small square in which Maurice was working away on tweaking his invention. It was crucial that it be absolutely perfect before he introduced it to the public. If all went well, then maybe this could mean the beginning of a better life for him and Belle. It wasn't that they lived in poverty or anything; no they were relatively comfortable… It was just that Maurice wanted his daughter to have the very best, especially when he was only the parent able to provide her anything.<p>

He was too far gone in his concentration to be able to notice the lovely sound of the bells that his daughter had so much appreciated earlier, but if he had… he would have surely stopped to admire them. Maurice was also too focused to notice the sound of several heavy hoof steps approaching until a deep voice filled with authority called out behind him.

"Good afternoon."

Maurice, not at all expecting company whipped around in surprise, his eyes wide. The sight in which he was met with was not a very settling one.

A tall, thin man astride a black steed towered over him, his fierce eyes almost feeling as if they were seething right through him, trying to see through to his mind, his soul. Maurice found himself faltering back a couple of steps in high unease.

"He-hello," he said, taking note of a few other soldiers behind the intimidating man that had just called out to him. What was this all about?

Maurice watched as the man's eyes fell onto his prized invention. The look he gave it caused the inventor to subconsciously step more in front of it as if he was defending it from something.

"That is a most interesting mechanism you have there, my good man," he said, his voice dark and filled with some sort of emotion that Maurice couldn't exactly understand.

"Why… thank you," he said, looking over his shoulder at it almost as if he was making sure it wasn't going to disappear right out from behind him. If it weren't for the fact that Maurice was far too focused on his invention, then he probably would have been a little more suspicious by the arrival of the strange men and the guards behind him. He was uneasy, but other than that, Maurice remained rather clueless.

"I am Claude Frollo, judge of this city of Paris, I don't believe we have met," the other man pressed, forcing Maurice to tear his gaze away from his prize again.

"Oh, I'm- I'm Maurice," he said, reluctantly turning all the way from his work, "Is there something I can help you with?" He didn't want to make it obvious that he wanted to be left alone, however he really didn't see much of a point of this judge looming over him while he worked. There was something in the back of his mind stating how this could possibly be trouble, but the workaholic side of him that just wanted to get back to tweaking won out and so he was more annoyed really than intimidated.

That would soon change.

"Tell me how this is operated. I would like to see a demonstration," Frollo, not asked, but demanded. It was around this time that Maurice really started getting the feeling that perhaps serious trouble was in the near future. He didn't see how though, there really was nothing wrong with his invention. Perhaps this Frollo character was simply interested in investing.

"I was actually working on it to make sure everything runs perfectly, but I don't see why not," Maurice said a bit softly before waddling over towards the front. With a few moments' hesitation he reached out and pulled the lever that would get it started.

The loud noise that suddenly sounded off startled both the men and the horses as several reared up and tossed their heads uneasily. Frollo reeled backwards, shielding his face with his arm as the contraption roared to life.

Maurice looked on proudly, watching as it pulled, chopped, and threw several pieces of wood into a neat pile. He allowed it to go on for a about two minutes before he pulled the lever again to get it to stop. His eyes had been locked on his greatest accomplishment that when he focused back on Frollo and the guards and the looks on their faces… needless to say he was concerned.

For the first time in a long time, Frollo showed more on his face than the normal mask of cold tranquility. The judge looked truly stunned and horrified. Never had he seen anything like that. _How _did it even work? No! He knew he mustn't be interested in it nor question it. As he always did when there was something he didn't understand…he assumed it was witchcraft or something of the like.

"What is this treachery?" he asked darkly, his brow forming in a grim, angry line.

"Wh-what?" Maurice asked, feeling suddenly quite wounded, "It's supposed to help people-"

Frollo was still very much disturbed by what he had just witnessed. This was almost as bad as those gypsy heathens… only this man appeared even more clever than they ever were. That could prove to be very dangerous. Or even perhaps he was working for them. The guards had been right to tell him of this.

"This is dark magic… A machine that powers itself? Only God can have such power. How _dare _you defy our Lord? Blasphemy!" Frollo spat, pointing an accusing finger at Maurice.

The poor fellow backed up several steps.

"I-I-I meant no harm, there must be some mistake! I was only trying to-"

"Lock him up!"

"No- Wait!" Maurice defensively put his hands in front of him as if he was going to try and just push them all away. But, he knew that he was no match compared to the large guards that approached him, and he simply just went limp and hung his head as they roughly grabbed hold of him and tied his wrists together with a frayed rope.

He just didn't understand! He had done nothing! Goodness, he had hardly even been here a little more than a couple hours. Oh this had been a grave mistake indeed. And it was going to cost him dear. But, there was only one thing on his mind… Belle… She could be in trouble!

"Please! I've done nothing wrong! I swear it!" But, his pleas were useless. As he was dragged away by a few guards with gawking onlookers in tow, Maurice fell silent, hoping that his daughter would not have to suffer the same fate as he.

Frollo watched them take the man away, feeling that same content feeling he always got whenever a damned being such as that unholy man was taken off the streets.

The same guard from before rode up beside him.

"What of the girl, Monsieur?" he asked, finding that this would be more difficult due to the fact that they did not know where she was.

"She'll have to come back at some point. Arrest her on sight and do not answer questions. She'll be held on trial with her father," he explained, "If she's been associated with him for as long as she has, then she is just as guilty as he."

"Are we to keep him locked away until then?"

Frollo nodded his head once, his eyes burning into the terrible contraption.

"Yes. And dispose of this- _thing_ at once," he said before urging his horse onward.

The guard watched him go before dismounting his own steed and heading off to set up a pyre that could burn this terrible thing to the ground.

As this unfortunate scene played out and the smoke began to rise, somewhere not too far away, the heart of Paris started to beat again as the bells began to ring once more.

**A/N: Poor Maurice D: I'm sorry for the lack of Quasimodo. He'll be back very soon. I miss writing for him. I hope you enjoyed it- Until next update!**


	4. From One Fugitive to Another

**A/N: Here's chapter four! Longest one so far! And they will only keep getting longer! I am happy to say that someone you all know very well shows his face in this chapter. He made a brief appearance in chapter three, but it was all too brief in my opinion. Anyways, please enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter – 4<p>

From One Fugitive to Another

"You did a good job, Emmanuel," Quasimodo's soft voice gushed as he polished the now silent bell, the only sign of her previous singing being the faint echo that still resonated through the dusty air.

The bellringer's arms ached slightly, as they always did at the end of a full day if pulling that rope and letting the bells sing their songs to Paris; but Quasimodo loved the feeling. To know that his strength was used for such a grand cause filled him with a rare joy.

Once he finished cleaning his iron beauty, he smiled at her before taking the rag in one hand and full out dropping off the rafter he was standing on. In rush of calculated speed, his free hand reached out as he fell and grasped on to the next rafter below him. Quasimodo dangled there for a moment before dropping again, landing firmly on his feet. It always gave him such a thrill whenever he performed such complex acrobatic moves.

With limited access to the world around him, the bellringer made it his job to know the world of his stone domain and how to get himself into every nook, alcove, and height of it. His unfortunate, crooked shape made maneuvering through such a place easier for it seemed almost as if it was made to live where it did. It was as if Quasimodo had unknowingly and unintentionally adapted to his environment to be one and live in harmony with it.

He limped awkwardly toward the nearest parapet, finding it to be his favorite time of the cycling day. It was almost sunset and it was there in which he could watch over the city below him and marvel at the beautiful winding colors of the sun sinking. It was beneath him that men made their way home after a tiring day of work, where the glorious smell of bread and stew being cooked filled the air and summoned children inside for dinner, where a woman and man would stroll together hand in hand, whispering sweet nothings and light secrets to each other. Quasimodo saw it all and more.

He knew each and every one of them, every single face imprinted in his mind. Each face painted on a wooden figurine residing in his miniature masterpiece of Notre Dame square. He couldn't really ever explain why he had decided to make such a thing to be perfectly honest.

Perhaps simply because it gave him something to do. But in truth, since he could not walk among them, he did the next best thing by creating them all in his own fantasy world where he not only knew them, but they knew him as well. They knew him, how he looked and they did not care. But, Quasimodo knew he was just wishing for something that would never be. His Master had crushed that hope before it could ever fully develop into a dream.

His vibrant blue-green eyes explored over the city, not stopping or focusing on anything specific. It was interesting to him how everyone below seemed to have such a routine. He always saw them doing the same things at the exact same time of day. While he was not one to talk about boredom, he could not help but wonder how they always managed have such repetition each day when they had such a wide world and endless possibilities to take in.

Even with his limited space, Quasimodo always tried to make the best of his time on earth and never lived the same day twice. He tried often to climb a different route up to the bell ringing platform or when he was going to the top of one of the towers. He would imagine different fascinating conversation with all of his gargoyle companions and names for each of them. The bells all had personalities, names and secrets as he did. And, he never left his Notre Dame square replica set up the same way twice. His figurines were constantly in different positions. There was only ever one thing that remained the same there, and that was his own little figurine, stooped and distorted just as he, which stayed aloft in the Notre Dame cathedral, watching over all before him like some crooked angel.

Quasimodo was distracted from his mind the moment his eyes rested on something, or rather someone, that did not look like they belonged there. While everyone seemed to be in almost a certain repetitive rush as they moved about the square, this individual in particular was moving a part from them all, her pace slow and even. Quasimodo narrowed his eyes further; she was reading!

Intrigued, he leaped over the parapet and grasped on to a gargoyle a few yards below with his feet pressed firmly against the wall. He leaned further out over the square to get a closer look. It was a woman, he could tell that much from where he was, but he still needed to get closer. This was someone he had never seen before in the town he practically memorized and thus his interest had been captured. It was still a while before he had to ring the vespers, he didn't see anything wrong with getting a closer look, as long as he remained out of sight.

Letting go of his hold on the gargoyle, Quasimodo fell several more yards before grasping his powerful hands onto another stone platform. He was only fifty feet or so from the ground beneath him. Now, there was no way that he would go any further, but it at least allowed him to see this new stranger more clearly.

Her face was still partially hidden from him, but he could see enough. Her slender, elegant frame maneuvered easily around the madness of the citizens of Paris, even though her eyes were glued to her book. With the many noises and all that was going on, not once did she look up. He found this utterly fascinating. Quasimodo was aware of the lack of reading in Paris, him being one of the few in which who actually could thanks to his master and his teachings. Never had he seen such focus, such concentration. Oh how he wished he were closer to be able to study her face better. However, Quasimodo knew very well his boundaries and that Frollo would be absolutely furious if he were to defy his order of staying hidden in his tower. The boy had learned very quickly to never break any of his master's rules. And, he did not plan on doing so now… he just wished to be closer.

Not to mention, the shy bellringer would be totally mortified if she were to see him. He wouldn't even know what to say, what to do… Yes, it was certainly best to remain where he was no matter how much his secret yearnings told him otherwise.

Quasimodo followed her with his eyes as she sat at a stone bench off to the side of the square. He couldn't help but wonder where she came from and why she was here of all places, but he just ignored the thoughts knowing that he would never receive an answer. Instead, he was content to simply study her whilst remaining hiding in the shadows of the statues and stone of his beloved home and nest.

* * *

><p>She had been so enthralled in her book and the lovely atmosphere that was Notre Dame square that Belle hardly noticed the time falling away along with the sinking sun. It was only when she found herself having to squint to be able to read the words on her page that she realized that it was almost dark.<p>

Oops! She had promised her father she would be home before dark! Belle pushed a stray strand of hair that constantly got in her face back and placed her book in her basket. Well, it appeared it was time for her to head back. The girl stood from her bench and peered up at Notre Dame for a moment, simply admiring its unusual yet overwhelmingly beautiful structure. There was something sinister and eerie, yet marvelous and holy about the place and if it weren't for the fact that she had to get home, Belle knew she would have gone to explore and look around.

The evening mass was about to end soon and thus the bells would ring once more. A big part of her really wanted to linger a moment longer to be able to hear them, but she knew that she ought to be getting along considering she knew her father and that he would be terribly worried if she kept him waiting too long, especially since this was a new place.

And so, she was off, sparing Notre Dame once last longing glance. Just as she was about to turn away, she froze for a moment, her eyes catching something (or someone) that did not seem as if it belonged on the tower. Narrowing her eyes, she realized that whatever it was was no longer there and therefore probably a trick of the light. It was strange; it almost had looked as if some sort of person were there. However, Belle knew that a human being climbing around on such a tall building was absurd and that even she was ridiculous for thinking as such. Shaking her head, Belle reluctantly turned from the cathedral and started heading back towards the crowded mass of cottages and people around her.

Almost the instant she was under the shadows of the crowd, she felt several pairs of eyes following her. Whether if it was for her appearance or for the fact that she had been so enthralled in her book earlier, Belle was not sure and did not care to dwell on it and so she sped up her pace slightly.

It just didn't make sense to her how they could be so skeptic towards those who were different. Belle wasn't planning on changing anything about herself though, so either they got used to it or they didn't. It wasn't up to her to change their opinions; it was only up to her to be herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a guard not too far away look rather fiercely at her. Belle subconsciously pulled that strand of hair from her face again and turned away. If she remembered correctly then that was the same guard that had been so accusing to her earlier when she and her father were only trying to gain access to the entrance, anything from him would most certainly not be enjoyed.

As she continued on, she did not see the guard gesture to a few others before hopping on to his horse. It was only when she heard thundering hoof beats behind her that she finally turned around again.

Her hazel eyes widened in surprise and she froze up for a moment, not at all sure of what was going on or what was about to happen. They all reached her within a few seconds and the guards pulled their horses to a stop.

The guard she recognized gestured for two others to dismount and she could only back up a few steps.

"Excuse me, is there a problem?" she asked, her voice a lot stronger sounding than she was currently feeling at the moment.

"No Mademoiselle, no problem at all," the guard said smugly. Belle could only glare up at him, not at all amused by his rude behavior. Suddenly, one of the other guards roughly grabbed on to her wrist. She automatically attempted to jerk her hand away, but found that to be near impossible with his strength.

"What are you doing? I've done nothing wrong," she gasped, still trying to pull away from him. Belle was completely bemused and very well close to panicking which was unlike her normal calm state. "Let go of me!"

"We're not permitted to answer questions from prisoners," the man that held her sneered, finding her attempts only too amusing. She reminded him of a trapped humming bird. A spirited one she was indeed.

"Prisoner? What have I done exactly?" Belle asked, trying to keep her voice even and not betray the flaming outrage and fear that was currently inside her causing her heart to pound.

Again, the guards refused to say anything and Belle could only once more attempt to remove herself from his grasp with poor results.

Oh this was not good in the least. Belle looked around frantically for help, for _something _and yet no one was there. All had either gone inside or were just ignoring the situation completely. Wordlessly, the guard began to tug her along and Belle flinched, yet again trying to pull away.

In desperation, her body seemed to act on its own as her right leg suddenly flew out from under her and struck the guard in the groin. Now, it wasn't nearly as painful as it would have been if he weren't wearing armor, but it caused him enough surprise and discomfort that he momentarily loosened his hold on her. Once her arms were free, she fleetingly whacked him upside the head with her book. That was all Belle needed to be able to tear herself from his grasp completely.

Without pausing to even think about what it was she had just done, Belle ran.

"After her!"

Just as she rounded the corner of the bakery, Belle heard the whinnying of horses and knew that they were hot on her trial. The girl had no idea where to go and looked around frantically for a place to hide or go. This was absolutely ridiculous! She hadn't done anything… What on earth did they think they were doing, arresting innocent people like this? That was far beyond rude, it was almost monstrous.

Suddenly, a voice sounded off to the left of her.

"Chérie, over here."

Belle whipped her head around and her eyes widened at the sight of the same gypsy man she had seen from earlier standing next to what appeared to be a secret door in the wall behind him. Without pausing for consideration, Belle fled towards him and into the door just as the guards rounded the corner. Almost as soon as she was inside, the door was closed behind her. For a moment, Belle wondered if her choice to go towards the gypsy was just as bad as staying where she was and getting caught.

But, the moment she looked up and saw the kindness yet mischievousness in the gypsy's face, she knew that all was well.

"Those buffoons never take a hint, I'm afraid," he said, peering through the small crack that the door made to see if the guards were still looking for her. The man then turned to her and performed some kind of bow with his hat before placing it back on to his head. "Clopin Trouillefou at your service."

Now that she was standing still and the adrenaline of frantically running from pursuers was gone, Belle found herself panting heavily while staring in fascination at the man, Clopin Trouillefou. She leaned against the wall for a moment and said nothing at first, still trying to catch her breath.

"Th-thank you, my name i-is Belle," she finally managed to stammer, clutching at her chest. She was still so very confused as to what in the world had happened and how she had ended up in this state, but at the moment she was just thankful to be safe and hidden from those… fiends.

"From one fugitive to another, a thanks is not needed, _Belle_. We are all brothers and sisters of the streets and we help each other out if we can," Clopin said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Belle just looked up at him in confusion. A fugitive?

"But, I'm not- I'm not a fugi-"

"And what do you call what just happened then, chérie? A tea party? I'm afraid I saw no crumpets; or more importantly, any _tea_," the gypsy cut off smartly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

She continued to simply stare, not entirely grasping the concept of where she was or why she had been driven to such measures to end up here.

"I don't understand, I haven't done anything… my Papa and I just arrived today. There hasn't been time for me to be able to even consider breaking the law…" she said. If there was one thing Belle hated more than anything, it was not understanding or knowing something when it felt like she should. It made her feel very frustrated and lost – two bad combinations in her opinion. Hopefully this Clopin would have some answers for her.

"Oui, you don't have to do anything to rouse the wrath of Frollo and his puppets. Just looking at the crétin would be enough to earn you a _lovely_ stay at the Palace of Justice," Clopin explained, bitterness in his voice. It was strange to hear such a thing come from someone who seemed so merry before. Was it all a façade?

Belle still was overwhelmed by all this information she was receiving and hardly knew what to make of any of it. Frollo? Palace of Justice? What did it all mean? However, if there was one thing that she surely was, it was intelligent. As she processed all of this based on what Clopin had said, she came to the realization that whoever this 'Frollo' person was seemed to be in charge since it sounded like he had 'puppets'. By puppets, he must have meant the guards. Was it this Frollo who had ordered her arrest?

If that was the case, then what in the name of all things good had she done? Was it that she was reading? Endless questions were filling her mind but while Belle usually loved her curiosity and yearning for knowledge, this was not something she was particularly enjoying. Even when she was figuring answers out, there were new questions just behind them. It seemed as if this gypsy was the only one who could provide her with anything that might possibly make things more clear.

As she looked around where she was, a new question filled her mind. It might be a good idea to figure out where in God's name she was. Her eyes landed back on Clopin.

"Where am I exactly?"

"Why if I told you, it wouldn't be a _secret _hiding place would it?" he replied back in that same mischievous yet playful tone he had been using before.

Belle tried not to scowl at him for his response and instead remained quiet and patiently hoped he would provide her a more elaborate answer.

"You are in one of the many passages we use to play cat and mouse with all the pleasant guard folk," he explained.

Her eyes widened in understanding then. Perhaps that was why so many people accused them of witchcraft. Because they unexplainably _disappeared _all the time. The gypsies weren't dangerous, just simply masters of illusions. There was yet another question in the back of her mind though and seeing as how this Clopin seemed willing enough, she figured she might as well go ahead and voice that one as well.

"Why did you help me?" she asked. He had said something earlier about 'brothers and sisters of the streets', but how did that apply to her? She certainly wasn't a gypsy…

Clopin just looked at her and chuckled, uncrossing his arms.

"Why wouldn't I help you?" he asked, turning the question on her.

Belle found herself lost for words yet again that day and instead regarded the strange man carefully, very much mystified by him.

"Thank you," she finally said after a while. Oh she knew that gypsies weren't evil! She couldn't believe that people believed otherwise. This man had saved her and for no reason at all. Perhaps not all gypsies were this way, but even so- not all were bad either.

Clopin's smile widened slightly.

"What did I tell you before?" he asked in response to her thanks.

The girl paused for a moment a bit confused, and then a small smile hit her face.

"From one fugitive to another," she said, accepting the fact that she was now outside the law.

Suddenly, a small hand puppet strangely resembling the gypsy only it was wearing a mask appeared on Clopin's right hand.

"Very good, chérie!" it exclaimed in a piercing, high voice, Clopin's mouth not moving at all. Belle let out a surprised laugh and looked at the strange thing.

Clopin scowled at the puppet.

"Now now now, what have I told you about interrupting important conversations?" he scolded, shaking the finger of his other hand at the puppet.

The thing drooped its head

Belle laughed again, enjoying the strange show she was receiving.

Clopin and his puppet proceeded to have a rather heated argument on manners for a few minutes while an amused Belle watched on. It was only when Clopin whacked the poor thing with his own hat that the conversation was ended.

"Terribly sorry about that. The silly boy doesn't always know when to keep his mouth shut," he said once the puppet was put away and his hat was placed properly back on his head.

"That's all right, it was nice to meet him," she replied, just going along with it. She had a feeling that that was what he would have wanted.

Clopin laughed at this before looking at her again. It was then that he spotted the book in the basket she still had around her arm. Miraculously, Belle had managed to hold to her book after the unfortunate event with the guards.

Before Belle knew what he was doing, Clopin reached out and pulled her book from the basket. She made a move to stop him, feeling a strange protectiveness over her cherished books, but instead forced herself to remain still.

"You read," he stated, flipping through the pages. Belle could tell from the way his eyes held little focus as he investigated that he couldn't read the words. Oh, was he just another one of those judgmental villagers? For some reason…Belle didn't think so.

"Yes," she said without hesitation, looking at him carefully to see how he would react to such information.

Clopin continued to flip through the book, it having caught his interest. Belle figured that gypsies would not know much of books having to live on the streets. Not to mention that if there were people like this 'Frollo' in charge, then books would certainly be restricted from them.

After another moment, he tossed it back to her, forcing the girl to frantically reach out and try to catch it before it hit the ground. That finally earned a scowl from her and Clopin just shrugged.

"Well, it made a good weapon," he remarked in reference to how she was able to get away from the guards.

"Books provide an even greater weapon than just something to hit someone with," she said. Clopin raised his eyebrows. "Knowledge," Belle finished.

The smirk that suddenly appeared on his face made her feel less than comfortable.

"Yes, but chérie- the _knowledge_ you need to survive out here you can't find in a book I'm afraid," he said, using the same tone she had had when explaining the use of books.

Belle opened her mouth and then closed it again. This gypsy certainly knew how to win an argument. For someone who didn't read, he was very clever.

Clopin simply laughed again at her silence and shook his head.

"Well, it is here that I must bid you farewell. The gypsies will be needing their king among them again soon," he said importantly. The surprised look that suddenly appeared on her face after he referred to himself as king was priceless and he couldn't help the chuckle that left him after that.

A king? The king of the gypsies? Things were starting to come together now with how street smart he was and his knowledge of the many winding passageways and secret hiding places around here. Once she got past the whole he-was-king part, Belle realized then that once he was gone she would be alone…

This was normally something that did not bother her, but considering she was now a… fugitive, there were people after her for reasons she still did not know.

"What should I do?" she asked in not a helpless tone, but rather a determined one- a tone that clearly stated that she was not going to just sit here and hide for forever.

Clopin seemed to pick up on that and it was easy to say he admired her for it. This woman was almost as bold as a gypsy; not something he ever saw in the regular peasants.

"Stay here until night fall. A majority of the guards are on the south side of Paris then. You will have a better chance of sneaking past the few remaining to where you need to go," he said.

Belle nodded her head.

"All right," she stated a lot more confidentially than she felt.

The Gypsy King nodded at her once.

"Very well. Adieu, chérie. And good luck to you," Clopin said. Just then his eyes focused on something behind her. Concerned, Belle turned around. When it was clear that nothing was there, she turned back.

Without even making a sound, Clopin had gone, not even leaving a shadow in his wake.

**A/N: Oh how I love Monsieur le Gypsy King... as I'm sure we all do. I hope you liked this chapter and I hope I did his character justice. Don't worry, Belle and Quasi will surely meet next chapter, I promise! I am sorry it's taking so long, I just think it's very important to set the stage and I don't want to rush anything. If there is one thing I can't stand, it's rushed stories and plots.**

** Please review, you have no idea how much that helps and encourages me to keep going. The more I know you all enjoy reading this, the more I enjoy writing it! Until next update!**


	5. An Unlikely Savior

**A/N: And so, it is here that I introduce you to the fifth chapter, a chapter I had so much fun writing. I truly hope you enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it. Get comfortable, for this chapter is quite the long one. Happy reading!**

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><p>Chapter – 5<p>

An Unlikely Savior

The moon was well over Notre Dame by the time Paris was fully enveloped in darkness. All was near silent in the streets except for perhaps the occasional outburst of drunken laughter from the corner tavern.

To Belle within her hiding place, she wouldn't have been able to tell how quiet it was out there due to the sound of her thundering heart beat in her ears. Other than that, all she heard was faint dripping water coming from somewhere further down.

Clopin had said to wait until night fall to emerge from where she was, and it was well past even that. Having already had to deal with the guards twice, Belle decided she did not want to take any chances.

Even though most of them were gone, there were still a few in the same area as her, and it would honestly take only one guard to be able to find and restrain her. But, she wasn't going to let herself think of that. Oh no. Instead, she was just going to focus on the fact that she _would_ get out of here and she _would_ get home to her Papa. There just was not any other option but that.

Oh, he had to be absolutely beyond worried for her right now… It filled Belle with guilt to realize the unneeded stress and fear she was causing him, but what other choice did she have? In the long run, Maurice would have been far more concerned if she had gotten herself arrested and thrown in prison. Belle was still wondering what that was all about, but had decided to stop thinking too much about it as it was clear she probably would never know the answer unless it was given to her by this Frollo man himself. And, considering Belle never planned to meet him, she figured she would have to just wonder.

She had waited over three hours at the very least in this dark, musty passage; and if she weren't fearful of getting lost, Belle surely would have explored more around her hiding place. However, the risk of losing her way and ending up in a place she shouldn't was too great, and she was far too focused on getting out rather than going further in.

Belle pushed the stone door forward slightly and peered through the larger crack it made. The street looked completely deserted; the only lights were those coming from the tavern and the beams of the moon high above. Deciding that now was as good as any, Belle slipped as quietly as she could out through the door and into the seemingly abandoned area.

It was significantly cooler out now that the sun was gone and the wind still blew, but she didn't notice too much. The fact that her nerves were causing the blood to race frantically through her veins kept her plenty warm for the time being.

Coming here had been a huge mistake and Belle could hardly believe she had been excited for this earlier. She should have known that it would have all ended up the same. No- this was far worse than anything she had had to deal with back in her little village. People simply gossiped about her originality, they didn't try to lock her up for it. Even though Belle wasn't one hundred percent that that was what it was for, she could only assume since it had gotten such a strong reaction from the guards at the gate earlier that day. Once she was home, she would tell her Papa of this and insist that they leave as soon as they could… this could only end terribly and mean bad news for him if they stayed. If they thought she was strange, she couldn't even imagine what they thought of her Papa.

The guards had seemed very unsure and suspicious of his invention- the thought of him out there publicizing it suddenly did not seem like a good idea at all and she was filled with an even more overwhelming urge to get home and warn him. He would surely not be happy to hear that they had gone after her like they had.

Suddenly, she was met with a thought that filled her with horror. _What if they had arrested him too! _Oh no! Now she _really_ needed to get back. Belle set her mouth into a firm, grim line and took several determined steps forward. Reluctantly, she set her basket on the ground, knowing it would be easier for her to move without it. She did _not _desert her treasured book however, and tied it securely and tightly in the folds of her apron; with how she had knotted it, there was no way that book was going anywhere, no matter how much movement she made. It was clear that this was something she did often when she did not happen to have a basket on her.

Looking back and forth between buildings and different streets, Belle realized she would have to cross Notre Dame square again due to the fact that the run-in with the guards had caused her to flee in the opposite direction of home. With how open the square was, she could only hope that the Lord would be kind and guide her through safely and unseen. She shut her eyes, praying that He would send an angel to protect and keep her hidden.

With that taken care of, Belle began to set out briskly in the direction of home, her previous silent prayer resonating still in her head.

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><p>With the bells no longer needing to ring until dawn the next morning, Quasimodo found himself on the very top of the North Tower. He was partaking yet again in one of his most favorite activities in his free time – overlooking the city at night. Living in a dark bell tower for twenty years now had caused his eyesight to adjust well and become nicely accustomed to being able to see in the nighttime with little light.<p>

True nearly everyone was inside, but that still didn't stop the dreaming bellringer from staring out at the peaceful streets, losing himself in his colorful thoughts. In his mind, he wasn't watching the streets high up, he was walking along them. He was running along the Seine, cartwheeling on the cobblestone roads, dancing under the moon's rays happy and completely free with not a care in the world. Quasimodo saw it all so vividly in his head; it was almost as if it were actually happening. He knew he was fooling himself- that reality was just out of reach. He could feel it, he could see it, but he just couldn't live it.

Gazing upon the near-empty streets, he sighed. He had lost track of that one girl a while ago, just before he had gone to ring the vespers. Quasimodo couldn't really explain to himself what about her had caught his attention. Sure the fact that she had been reading was unusual compared to the norm, but the boy felt as if there was more to it than that. Well, she was gone now and so studying further to see what it had been was near impossible; he hadn't even seen her face all that well.

Any normal _free _person probably would have forgotten about some random stranger they had seen at a glance, but it was different for Quasimodo. Those people had their whole _free_ lives to look forward to; Quasimodo could notice and dwell on the smallest of things for hours, his only responsibility being that he was the bellringer. And, so it was still that he mused upon the young woman, where she could possibly be now and why she was even here to begin with.

Quietly he heard the impatient, frozen gargoyles asking what it was that had captured his interest. He just shook his head and leaned further over the railing. Even in all its stillness there was something so enchanting and beautiful about Paris in the nighttime. Perhaps it was because in its rapid and frantic movements in the daytime, no one would ever guess it could get so silent and peaceful- no one ever took the time to stop and look.

Only Quasimodo.

Sometimes he could hear faint sounds of shouting or the occasional glass shatter from the local tavern, but that held little interest for him. His master had always told him that people who indulged in such things were vile sinners; and so Quasimodo tried not to think of them too much. The idea that even normal looking men could be scorned so harshly really frightened him. For compared to them, what was he? Quasimodo quickly wrenched his mind away from that thought, knowing that it was a sin within itself to even come close to comparing himself with ordinary people. He was nothing, an incomplete, a monster…

Another sigh escaped him and he ran a hand over his face, feeling all his imperfections beneath his palm. His eyes focused on his hand for a moment until he found himself looking past it to down below in the square. Quasimodo hitched in a breath. There she was again!

His brow furrowed in concern though at the strange sight and so to get a closer look, he threw himself over the rail and climbed his way down to the nearest parapet nearly a hundred feet below him. He didn't stop there and continued to ease his abstract form through the stone arches and gargoyles. Only when he was fifty feet from the bottom did he finally remain still. What on earth was she doing out here this late? Quasimodo knew that it was nearing midnight and only rascals stayed out at this hour and no good came from that.

From the way that she moved so slow and calculatedly, it seemed almost as if she was sneaking around somewhere. What could she be up to? Quasimodo leaned further out over the square and strained his eyes. Just then sounds of shouting and hysteric laughter pierced the night like an arrow and Quasimodo jerked his head toward the direction it came from.

Four men emerged from the tavern, their spirits high and their vision blurred. He tightened his hold on the statue he was grasping, not sure what to make of what was going on below him.

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><p>Belle had heard the outburst as well and the sudden noise had almost scared her out of her wits. When she realized it was just a bunch of men heading home, she relaxed. As long as they weren't guards then it was going to be okay.<p>

So far so good. She was almost half way across the square and there was no sign of any guards. If she could just reach the shelter of the many cottages, then Belle knew she was home free, literally.

Keeping to the shadows, Belle picked up her pace a little more. The thought that her Papa could possibly have been arrested really troubled her, but Belle refused to think about that. She had to remain optimistic. Her Papa was surely home now, probably pacing the floor contemplating on looking for her. Belle knew he was well aware of her independence and her preference to do things on her own, but she also knew of his deep love and protection for her. Such thoughts on her wonderful, dear father only encouraged her to hurry even more.

It almost seemed as if she would make it unsighted; luck must have been on her side tonight. But, as how so many unfortunate events had occurred to her that day, she really should have suspected that another was just around the corner.

So focused was she, that she did not notice how the group of men loud men leaving the tavern suddenly took quite the interest in her frame under the moonlight. Wordlessly, the tallest of the four gestured towards her oblivious, sneaking form and the men began to make their way towards her.

Belle could almost sense them before she saw them. The moment she realized that she was no longer alone, she whipped around. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she laid eyes on four rather unfriendly looking men- the ones who had been making such a holler earlier. Oh dear, now this was quite the predicament she had gotten herself in. She said nothing in acknowledgment to them and instead glanced fleetingly past them as she thought of the best way to get out of this situation.

"Good evening, _poupée_," one of the men murmured in a rough voice as he took a step forward. It was clear in the way his footfalls were uneven that he had indulged himself in a little too much burgundy. Belle wrinkled her nose as the putrid smell of his breath reached her and countered his movement by taking a step back.

"What is a little girl like you doin' out at this hour? Don't you know there are scoundrels that lurk in the dark?" Another asked, his bitter voice dripping in sarcasm.

Belle was not going to have any of this. She had a mission, a goal- and these men were standing in her way of that.

"Scoundrels? As in yourselves?" she asked, her tone piercing and practical. Neither of the men really knew what to say in response at such a statement and looked confusedly amongst each other. All were too drunk to really handle much of an intellectual conversation. Belle tilted her chin up in a stubborn, set gesture and made a move to push past them.

Before she knew what had happened, one of the other men who had not spoken yet harshly grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back in between the others. She gasped in annoyance and startled pain, gripping at the shoulder that had just been roughly handled with her other hand. Were all the men in this place so rude and grabby like that? The way he had been so forceful reminded her uneasily of the guards trying to arrest her earlier- honestly, which would be worst?

"What's the rush, lovely? Stay and play with us for a while," the larger man more commanded than begged. Belle jerked away from him.

"I will do no such thing! Stay away from me, all of you!" she demanded, not quite knowing what had come over her and how she could possibly ward them back. When one of them took yet another bold step towards her with his hand outstretched, Belle could not help herself as her hand swung out defensively and smacked the brute across the face, a satisfying _snap _filling the air.

At first he was struck dumb at what had happened as were his three other companions. Belle took this opportunity to back up several steps, preparing to run – even though running had not ended well last time either. Oh could this day get any worse!

It didn't take the men long to recover and they rushed towards her once more. Belle felt herself again being seized only this time the grip was much fiercer and she tried her hardest to keep from letting out a noise. She was met with seething eyes of fire and she cringed back from the man that held her, taking note of the red handprint she had left on his face.

"You little _putain_! There are punishments here for when a woman doesn't know her place!" he bellowed before shoving her away from him. Belle lost all balance and toppled to the ground, landing painfully on her ankle. She couldn't stop the sigh of pain that left her as it twisted.

Well this was no good! The girl attempted once more to stand up but yet again she was pushed brutally back to the ground, this time the side of her head whacking against the cobblestones. She could taste blood in her mouth, and she quickly felt the bile rise from her stomach. Belle tried to focus on her attackers, but to due to the blow to the head, it was very hard for her to zero in on anything as it was all just so blurry.

The drunk made a move to go towards her once more when one of his wasted companions stopped him for a moment.

"Jules, do we really want to cause such a scene before Notre Dame?" he asked, his eyes momentarily sober.

The man called Jules just shoved him off with a grunt and moved towards the helpless, wounded woman who seemed to be fading fast from consciousness.

What happened next as he knelt down to her level could not be described, for one minute he was on the ground and the next… he wasn't.

Some unknown, unnaturally strong force had lifted the man clean off his feet. Jules exhaled sharply in shocked confusion. It only took him a second to realize that a large hand- bigger than any he had ever seen- grasped the collar of his tunic. His eyes followed the hand, seeing that a huge arm strained with impossible muscle was connected to it; once he looked upon the face of the owner of such impressive strength, a loud scream of terror left him beyond his control.

The hideousness that had just assaulted his eyes was the last thing he saw before he was fiercely thrown several yards from the place he had once stood. His flailing body hit the ground finally with a sickening thud. Jules made one single attempt to move, but groaned and laid back down. He moved no more after that.

Belle fought to keep her eyes open, the scream having forced her from her semi unconsciousness for a moment. Through the haze in her mind, she could see someone was standing in front of her… protecting her it seemed, though she barely had the strength to lift her head and see more of her savior other than his legs. The way his feet rested on the ground seemed almost awkward, but she hardly was in the state of mind to even ponder on that.

Before the baffled men stood none other than Quasimodo; resembling more of an infuriated animal than a man. His already terrible face was contorted into a look of fiery rage as he seemed to tower over them all despite his stooped shaped, his nostrils flaring like a furious mustang. The creature's fists were clenched and shaking and his great head framed with shaggy red hair was reared back in a defiant, frightening manner. His unmistakable crouching body language made it very clear to the men that he was not planning on letting them get any closer to the girl. In that moment as he gnashed his teeth- Quasimodo did not care that they looked upon his face. He would _not _allow these men to torment the poor woman so close to the house of God, so close to sanctuary…his own home.

They were all too drunk to take the strange beast seriously at first and instead found him to be more of a frightening annoyance.

Big mistake.

After watching his friend, Jules go flying across the square because of this violent… _thing_… this monster, another one of the men rushed forward not willing to let this freak of nature think he could get away with such a blow against them. As he raised his fist towards the ready hunchback, he prepared to strike him hard- but before he could even feel the satisfaction of the wretch's flesh giving beneath his knuckles, he too was picked up as Jules had been and thrown across the square.

The other two men looked at this hideous creature, their eyes wide with terror. Not even checking to see if their two friends were okay, they turned and fled- the darkness soon swallowing their forms from sight. They had no idea what in God's name that cretin was, but they didn't plan on sticking around and getting all the bones in their bodies broken.

The last thing Belle felt before losing all grasp on reality were two powerful, warm arms gently grasping her and lifting her from the ground. And, the last thought she had was that God had indeed answered her prayer of sending an angel to guide her and keep her safe through the square. She could just barely make out the strange silhouette of her savior's face looming over her through her eyelashes before fading off completely and going limp in his arms.

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><p>He could not explain the events that had just occurred to himself even if his life depended on it.<p>

Quasimodo had been watching the girl from a distance on the bell tower just as he had been earlier. But, once those men appeared and started getting closer to her, his body seemed to have a mind of its own and he slowly began to descend past the point in which his imaginary boundary line was.

For the first time ever he was only mere feet from the ground. He had never seen life from this far below before. The city was almost unrecognizable considering it appeared so different from high up, but he was much too concentrated on what was happening in front of him to be able to dwell on that too much. Between two large statues, he crouched like a stalking tiger in the tall grass, his eyes narrowed and sparking.

All it took was that man shoving her to the ground for him to snap and lunge from the safety of the stone haven he had known all his life. The moment his feet hit the ground, he loped towards the girl and those terrible men. Quasimodo was able to get there just as one man knelt beside the poor girl. It was then that he saw nothing but red as everything else faded away and he allowed his hidden, chained ferocity and rage to overtake him for the first time in his young life...

The bellringer stood there now, panting with the girl in his arms. Quasimodo knew he could not be out here for much longer. Those wounded men would be awakening soon and he did not want to be in their vicinity with the young woman when they awoke. It was already bad enough that they had seen him. Oh Master would not be pleased in the least bit if he were to find out- but that thought was far from Quasimodo's mind as he clutched the girl to him and did the only thing he could think to do- he ran back to the cathedral. He knew naught a thing about her, where she lived, where she came from, and so the safest place for her now was to be in sanctuary.

His heart thundered vigorously in his chest as the realization hit him that this was the first human other than Frollo or the Archdeacon that he had ever been this close to. And- he wasn't just close to her, he was _holding_ her. A woman…

Quasimodo's hands began to tremble as he half limped and half ran his way towards Notre Dame. His gait might have been lame, but he was still swift and went unnoticed as he leapt on to one of the statues.

Carefully as he possibly could, he adjusted his hold on the injured woman so that she was draped over his left shoulder with his arm curled firmly backwards around her waist, keeping her pinned safely there. A blush drifted its way across his face at such close contact, but he shook that from his mind as he reached out with his free arm and grasped the stone hand of the Mary statue to help pull himself up.

With only one of his hands useful, it was going to take much of his leg strength to get him all the way up to the top again, but the pliant bellringer found himself taking to climbing the stone like a spider took to climbing his web.

The trip back up was significantly longer than it would have taken if it were just him alone with both his hands, but eventually Quasimodo made it to the nearest parapet and swung his powerful form over the rail and onto solid ground. It was then that he adjusted his hold on the female yet again, cradling her close to his chest. A small moan left her and Quasimodo flinched at the sound, not expecting it and certainly not aware that she could even make such a noise.

Without further hesitation, he continued his stiff-legged run to the bell tower where his home was. It was the only thing he could think to do. Perhaps when he had her placed safely somewhere, he could notify the Archdeacon- that seemed like the best option.

Finally, _finally _he made it to his little room in the South Tower. Immediately he went to his sleeping mat in the far corner, sheltered by curtains. As if the unconscious girl were the most fragile thing he had ever touched in his life, he gently lowered her to his bed, resting her head upon his pillow. His hands had gone from trembling to flat out shaking at this point. It only got worse when he was finally able to see her face in full candlelight for the first time…

Quasimodo ceased his breathing. For a moment, it was as if he had lost sense of everything.

This… this was no woman. She was an _angel_.

A narrow heart-shaped face rested upon his pillow, tumbling mahogany curls splayed around her head, almost like the flames around the sun. Her skin was fair, even lighter than his own, with the faintest shade of amber in the dancing candlelight- oh and how soft it looked; as if it were the finest satin. Heavy, dark lashes rested and fluttered against her apple cheeks as she slept, her elegant, lily white neck tilted slightly to the right. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in all his life. The palms of his hands had gone numb at this point and he began to wring them together frantically. Quasimodo hadn't the slightest idea on what to do. He knew he must help her, but he had never once been in a situation like this one. He didn't even know where to begin.

There was a _woman_ in his home! There was a woman in his _bed_! Oh dear… Oh what would Master say? What…what would Master even do? But, this wasn't about his master. This was about this vulnerable young woman who had suffered greatly without deserving any of it… and he liked to think that the Lord had put him near her for a reason- he was meant to help her

Timidly and with much deliberation he reached out with his hand and brushed her forehead with feather light fingertips, moving aside a few stray wisps of hair; she was just as soft as he had imagined! If he had seen correctly, she had hit her head rather hard on the ground when she had fallen, he would need to see how bad the damage was there. His heart only seemed to pick up even more speed as his two fingers slowly glided their way to the side of her head.

Quasimodo's eyes widened when he felt dampness beneath her hair. When he pulled his hand away momentarily, his stomach squeezed at the sight of blood on his fingers. A little gasp emitted from his lips and he looked about him in distress, his mind going blank with shock.

Bandages! That's what she needed. But- he had none!

"Oh…" he sighed in panicked despair. He should at least clean the wound…that was all he could do at this point.

He waited not a moment longer before he wheeled around and bolted up towards the bell ringing platform where he kept his rags. As he ran, he left a series of crashes in his wake for in his agitated mindset, he didn't exactly see what was right in front of him and so quite a few things were knocked in disarray.

It seemed to him to take an eternity before he finally made it back to her with the rags. Quasimodo hobbled to the side table where a bowl of water was kept and dunked the rag before wringing it out perhaps a bit too roughly seeing as how the fabric gave a bit beneath his grip.

The poor boy began to shake again as he realized that he would need to touch her once more. With large, trembling fingers, he reached out and gently cupped the back of her head in his palm. The proportions between his hand and her head were so shockingly different; he couldn't help how disgusted he felt with himself as he realized he could easily crush her skull. He truly was inhuman… He shook his head abruptly- there were more important things to worry about right now than self-pity!

Moving her head only slightly, he was able to get a better view of the open wound. To Quasimodo's immense relief, it was not all that serious, only a scrape just above the temple; but he could already feel the lump beginning to form- and there would definitely be bruising.

With a heartbreaking tenderness that no one would ever guess from such a brutish and savage looking man, he began to lightly dab the blood away from her perfect skin. Oh how her beauty just hurt his heart! How those men could possibly be so cruel… it sickened him. Master had been right all along: the outside world really was not a place for him. If they could treat a pure near-angel like this with such evil, Quasimodo shuttered to think what they would do to him. The fact that he had so effortlessly threw two of them away with his strength barely mattered to him- he was still a frightened child inside when he thought of their cruelty, their abuse, and their scorns.

The blood was soon cleared away and only a small, raw mark was left as evidence of the previous scuffle. The wound still looked angry though and he knew it would be in her best interest for it to be covered. Just as he had before, he looked about the room for something he could use whilst ringing his hands. It was only by chance that his eyes landed on his dark green tunic. It would have to do.

With little effort on his part, Quasimodo grasped the base of his tunic and ripped a small strip off. It was just long enough to fit entirely around her head and apply enough pressure to stop any more possible bleeding. He stumbled back several steps, giving her polite space seeing as he had finished all that he could do for her.

Now that he was done, Quasimodo stood awkwardly at the opening of the curtains not at all sure what he should do with himself now. He did not want to leave her side for even a second, but he knew that there were still certain matters that needed to be taken care of. He nervously rubbed his hands together in thought as his eyes gazed at the unconscious girl so very near to him. It was almost too much to grasp that he was now no longer the only living thing in this space.

She looked so helpless, so hurt. Just as her beauty had earlier, it pulled painfully at his heart. He never wanted to see her or anything in that sort of way. It reminded him of the poor birds he would often come across that had fallen from their nests above the parapets. Their wings were broken and their hopes to fly were crushed. He dearly hoped that that would not be the fate for this girl.

It was then that he knew he would do whatever it took to keep her safe and away from any potential danger; just as he did with those injured birds, when he took them in and tended to them, nurtured their frangible wings and helped them to fly again. He didn't know her name, he didn't even know _her, _but he was a man of devotion and seeing as how he had more than just the bells to protect now, he would fulfill that purpose. He would help her to fly again.

First things first though… he would need to notify the Archdeacon of her presence at once and state her claim to sanctuary. With both the shelter of God and the protection of the bellringer, there was no way anymore danger would reach her.

Or so it would seem.

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><p><strong>AN: Can someone say epic Quasi? I never imagined it would be that much fun to write the bellringer so upset. Usually we all see him in such a pleasant, gentle light (well, sort of in the book's case)- it was quite interesting to delve into a more darker, angry side of him. Due to a few suggestive elements that occur in this chapter, the rating has now gone up to T... but it will not go any higher than that.  
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**FINALLY, they've met... kind of. Be prepared for some nice Quasibelle chapters from this point on. Thanks for sticking with this story even if did have a bit of a slow start!  
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**Don't forget, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. Each time I get on and see someone has posted, it immediately makes me want to get this story up even faster. **

**Cheers!**


	6. Sanctuary

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews everyone! As I've said before- you guys have no idea what that does for me. I truly appreciate it. You guys rock. Seriously. Now... on to the story (excuse the total lack in creative chapter title, it was the only thing that seemed to suit)! Happy reading!**

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><p>Chapter – 6<p>

Sanctuary

The bells of Notre Dame did not ring that morning. Several Parisians were late to rise and it took them all a moment to understand why. They could not recall a time in the past in which Notre Dame had ever been silent, but they thought little on the subject; figuring it to be some sort of hoax.

Only one person alone knew why the beloved cathedral did not sing at dawn and said person was on his way down a spiraling stairs that very moment.

Quasimodo had remained standing at the threshold of where she slept all night. He had originally planned to tell the Archdeacon of the sanctuary's newcomer right away, but he found that he could not leave her alone in such a state. It had taken all his willpower just to go down these stairs even now for this brief moment.

Fatigue burned his eyes and slowed his limbs, but he knew he had to stay alert.

To his great relief, it did not take him long at all to find the Archdeacon. Quasimodo dreaded straying too far from the shadows and the comfort of what he knew. Even though the entire cathedral was his home, he felt like a tiny, insignificant stranger whenever he was at the bottom. Frollo was never pleased when he left his tower; and so he hardly did.

The Archdeacon was strolling down the hall in the direction in which Quasimodo had just come from and for a second he wondered if perhaps he was heading up to see why he had not rung the bells. Oh he just couldn't bear to wake her… not after the terrible night she had endured. He wanted her to have, if only for a moment longer, a few more precious minutes of peace.

Careful not to startle him, Quasimodo cleared his throat softly just as the man passed him.

"M-monsieur?"

The Archdeacon stopped short and looked around in a calm manner. Automatically, the hunchback found himself shrinking further back into the shadows. Even though this man often had seen him and didn't even seem to mind, Quasimodo still found himself ashamed for someone so close to God to be associated with the abomination that was his face.

"Quasimodo, is that you child?" he asked, his voice kind yet slightly concerned. Even the Archdeacon knew it was a rarity for the bellringer to leave his tower, much less for the bells to be silent. He turned and was just able to make out the boy's misshapen silhouette partially behind a pillar.

Reluctantly, the bellringer moved forward a little so that the candlelight just barely brushed his features.

"Yes," Quasimodo answered, down-casting his eyes. He had had all that he wanted to say planned out in his head, but the minute he felt the burn of the Archdeacon's gaze, his tongue immediately felt like heavy clay in his mouth.

The Archdeacon seemed to pick up on the poor boy's hesitance and decided to coax him into saying what it was he was down here for.

"Is everything well? I noticed that the bells did not ring this morning…" he began, glancing past the hunchback towards the entrance in which he had come from, "I was on my way up to check on you actually."

It seemed a light suddenly entered Quasimodo's eyes and he finally remembered everything he had wanted to say.

"Oh! W-well… Actually, I was – urm… I-I was coming to see you…"

The older man's eyebrows rose with interest. Usually the only times he ever saw Quasimodo were when he occasionally came up to deliver his meals when Frollo would not come or one of the other deliverers was not available. He couldn't think of a time in which the boy had ever sought him out.

Quasimodo continued.

"Last night a… a girl c-c-came here and she w-was very hurt. There were p-people after her. Please allow h-her sanctuary…."

As this startling news settled in, the Archdeacon's usual kind and tranquil face went a little slack in surprise.

"Of course my boy, of course. Is she all right? Where is she now? Does she need a doctor?" he asked, not at all knowing how gravely she had been hurt.

His strong reaction seemed to startle Quasimodo even further and the boy moved back a step or two in discomfort. The Archdeacon gave him an apologetic look and waited to see what he would say.

Slowly, the bellringer regained his confidence.

"She's fine now; I-I-I was looking after her. She's asleep u-up in the B-bell Tower…" he said, finding that saying it made him yearn even more to go back up and check on her. However, Quasimodo didn't have the slightest idea of what he would do once she awoke… He was too concerned over her well-being at the moment though and decided that he would just deal with that situation once it arose.

The Archdeacon was still very taken aback by this news, especially by the fact that Quasimodo had someone up there with him. While he had no problem with that, the older man had a feeling that Claude Frollo would be very displeased to learn of his adopted son having someone else staying up there with him.

"Be careful, Quasimodo," he warned, "She is certainly welcomed to stay here for as long as she is in need to. I will lift her up in my prayers and I will later send someone up with food for you both."

The bellringer bent his knees awkwardly and lowered his head in a strange bowing manner.

"Th-thank you, Father, thank you," he stammered.

Just then the noise of the cathedral doors being opened sounded off and echoed eerily through the church. Quasimodo wasted no time in throwing himself back behind a pillar and out of sight.

However, he did not move from where he was for the sound of clanking armor captured his attention. A guard? How many? What were they doing here? Questions attacked his mind and so he decided to remain where he was and hopefully have them answered. His blue-green eyes fell on to the Archdeacon who gave him a reassuring look before stepping towards the approaching guards.

Quasimodo could faintly make out their voices. Straining himself, he was able to hear the Archdeacon greet them and ask of their intentions. Peeking just barely from around his hiding place, he deciphered two forms standing at the door.

"We are searching for a missing woman. She has openly defied the law and is wanted for arrest," one of them said.

Quasimodo found his eyes widening in disbelief- could this possibly be the girl that he had up in the Bell Tower?

"Yes, we almost had her yesterday, but she assaulted one of us and then ran. Has anyone turned up here?" the other questioned as well.

Things were starting to slowly piece together for Quasimodo as he remembered last night how she had disappeared just at sunset and reappeared several hours later in a curious, sneaking manner. She was…a criminal? Oh but that could not be! No one that pure looking could be something so wicked. Frollo had to have been wrong somewhere in his teachings… he just had to. Biting his lip, he focused and listened in to hear more.

The Archdeacon was almost amused at the thought of a woman 'assaulting' these large oafs of men, but he said nothing on the matter and instead looked at them in disapproval.

"If this woman you are so intent on catching is in fact within these walls, you will not touch her. For, if she is here, she is here under Sanctuary and God's will is by far stronger than yours," he answered.

Quasimodo heard a strange sound of rushed footsteps and then a loud _clank. _

One of the guards had rushed forward in a rage, but the other had pulled him back abruptly.

"Control yourself, Jean," he commanded, knowing that to act out violently in this house of God was a sin and they could easily lose their places for it.

The other, Jean, glared at the Archdeacon before taking a large breath and backing away from them.

"If you two gentlemen will kindly remove yourselves, I have a mass I need to set up that will start soon," the older man said in dismissal.

After a few more harsh look exchanges, they turned away and headed out. Once they were out on the streets, they felt it safe to talk again.

"Really, what sort of stunt was that?" the shorter of the two guards scolded the other as they made their way around the villagers.

"Can I not be angry, Yvon? This is the third time that little wench has evaded us. The way she just disappeared last evening… I am beginning to wonder if witchcraft is involved…" Jean said, his eyes hard and fiery. He remembered all too well Frollo's words against the gypsies and how they often used witchcraft and mind tricks to get out of situations like they had the girl in last night.

"Are you saying she may be in a partnership with the gypsies? She did seem offended when we brought them up in front of her," Yvon said, catching on.

"Perhaps, but we'll not know for sure until she's behind bars."

"Let's keep looking; she has to be hiding somewhere."

The two guards soon found themselves retracing their steps, looking in outrages places, and getting all the more frustrated by the beautiful girl who got away.

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><p>Quasimodo waited several minutes after the doors had closed before coming slightly out from behind the pillar again. The Archdeacon was still standing where he had been earlier. The bellringer was far too timid to go completely out in the open to where he was and so instead stayed to the wall hoping that perhaps he would come his way.<p>

Eventually the Archdeacon sighed and turned, walking towards the direction he figured the lonely hunchback to be in.

"Are you still there, Quasimodo?" he asked softly, a bit of a strain in his voice. The boy guessed he was a bit shaken up by that one guard's sudden movement to harm him, however he hid it well.

"Yes, Father," he said, stepping further out from the shadows.

"Remember what I said, child. Be very careful. I can only guess if she is the woman that they're looking for."

Quasimodo found himself very moved by the Archdeacon's concern and couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his face. His mind was far too naïve to even conceive the thought that the woman could be a threat to him.

"I will."

With a parting smile, the Archdeacon headed off to begin mass while Quasimodo galloped swiftly up the stairs and back up to the Bell Tower. He knew he would need to ring the morning mass even if the girl was asleep. The bellringer just prayed silently that she would sleep through it, though that was doubtful. He did have one option and that was to move her to a room with a closed door.

Quasimodo decided this would be the best choice for her and so the minute he reached his home, he ran right to the corner in which his sleeping area was.

There she laid in the same position he had seen since last he left her.

Quasimodo gave a sharp intake of breath.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered her being twenty minutes ago. Yet again after much hesitance on his part, he made his way in and picked her up gently from the bed.

He tensed the moment he saw her brow wrinkle a bit at the new position she was suddenly in, but other than that she made no other movement. He felt something that seemed a little off press against his stomach that was coming from the side of her waist. Furrowing his own brow, he placed her back on the bed to examine what was wrong. To his astonishment, he found a small book tied and knotted in the sash of her apron.

Cautiously, he proceeded to attempt to untie said book, it could not be comfortable sleeping on such a thing. What he really wanted to know was how that book had managed to stay tied to her apron when he had been yanking her all around Notre Dame last night…

A few frustrating minutes later, he finally had the complicated knot undone and the book was freely in his hands. Looking from her, back to the book, he opened it slowly and with much deliberation. The only books he had ever known were the lesson and alphabet books Master would sometimes bring as well as the bible; even though he knew there were other books out in the world, he never imagined that one would end up here with him. Feeling intrusive, he did not read it and instead abruptly closed it. He then set the book on the side table and went to pick her up again, the unease returning right away.

Quasimodo adjusted his hold on her and made his way out to the parapets and further down where a spare room was kept with a small bed of stone. As carefully as he could, he placed her there. The makeshift bandage around her head seemed to be serving its purpose well and there also appeared to be a little more color in her cheeks. Such a sight was very relieving to Quasimodo and told him that he had been doing a good job in seeing that she was handled well and with care.

While he knew she was bound to wake sooner or later, he hoped that at least she wouldn't be disturbed by his ringing. Giving her a last lingering look, he headed out of the room and closed the door behind him. The bells would still be loud and clear from there, but at least it wouldn't be nearly as loud as it would have been if she were in the actual tower.

A few minutes later, Quasimodo found himself on the bell ringing platform with the ropes in his massive hands. It didn't matter how often he did this, there was always a thrill of glee that coursed along with his blood through his veins the moment before he did the first pull.

With a strength that was near impossible, Quasimodo gave a great tug and the beginning iron clang sounded off, shaking the entire tower and almost pulling the bellringer right off his feet.

Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the music and continued with the natural rhythm he had kept for well over ten years. When the bells were all at a steady sway, he pulled the rope as hard as he possibly could, causing his feet to finally lose contact with the ground as he was yanked upwards. He hung in the air for perhaps two seconds before he jerked his crooked body forward and used the momentum to swing from the rope and grasp firmly on to the mouth of the nearest bell. For a moment, it almost appeared as if Quasimodo was a part of the powerful instrument, his form seemed to blend and bend so well with it. But, that was quickly overlooked as he suddenly let go and jumped to the next one.

The look on his face as he continued with this little game of his was sheer joy and for just a single moment he forgot about his isolation, his deformity, Frollo, Notre Dame, and even the fear for the girl asleep down below him. It was only him. It was only the bells; as their triumphant ringing thundered through his head.

He carried on this way for a few minutes more before releasing his hold on the bell and somersaulting his way through the air down to the nearest beam. With highly skilled judgment, he was able to grab hold of it to stop himself from hitting the ground. Quasimodo dangled there and then finally let go, dropping straight to the floor with a loud _thump_ soon to follow.

The minute he hit the ground, reality shot right through his head, sending his stomach tumbling in an uncomfortable lurch. Immediately he knew he needed to check on the girl. Oh he hoped the bells had not disturbed her! If she were to awaken in that dark room… Quasimodo tried not to think too much about it. It was best for him to get her placed back properly on his own bed in his own sleeping area.

The hunchback limped rapidly off in the direction where he had left her, finding himself quite fearful of what he might find there.

Before too much longer, he was standing right in front of the door, staring at the withered wood. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and pushed it open.

Quasimodo wasn't quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned that she was still asleep. Had that head trauma been more serious than he thought? He only stood there a second longer before moving more into the room and hesitantly taking her in his arms once more. The moment he was in close contact with her again, he almost lost his breath. It seemed as if he forgot how to breathe the proper way as his throat suddenly went dry and his palms began to sweat. What…what was this? What was he feeling? _Why_ did she make him feel this way?

So many questions and no one to ask them to...

Swallowing hard, he shook his head and held her closer while he made his way out back on to the parapets.

It did not take Quasimodo long at all to reach his own little room in the Bell Tower. Just as he had before, he set the woman back down upon the mat and pillows as if she were the most fragile thing in the world and the slightest wrong move would break and shatter her into a million hopeless pieces.

When he was sure that she was placed as comfortably on the mat as she possibly could be, he did a quick examination of her head to see if it was any better off than it had been last night. As he had observed before, there was a little more color in her cheeks than he remembered there being, but the fact that she still had not wakened was a bit unnerving to him.

Deciding to give her a clean set of bandages, Quasimodo reached out with a timid but firm hand and gently pulled the makeshift bandage loose from her head. There was a nasty bump where she had struck the ground, but the angry redness had faded exceedingly since he had last laid eyes on the injury. He also noticed with much relief that she was no longer bleeding.

Without waiting a minute longer, he ripped another strip from the base of his tunic. Though instead of tying it right away, he dipped half of it in the bowl of water he kept near his bed and softly dabbed it across her forehead. She had felt a little warm to him. The crease in her brow that had been there earlier seemed to ease considerably and Quasimodo couldn't help but smile at the sight.

The bandage was soon tied securely around her head and she was once more resting peacefully upon his pillows and bedding. Now all he found he could do was wait quietly for a sign, hint or anything that would suggest how she was doing. He stood there with great alert at the threshold of his curtains and watched over her constantly. The only time his eyes ever left the room was when he heard someone stop by for a moment to drop off his lunch.

When he went to investigate, he saw that the Archdeacon had indeed kept to his word of saying he would send something up for her as well. Quasimodo's eyes softened as he thought of that man's kindness and how relieved he was that he seemed fine by the fact that he had someone else up here with him. At the moment he was doing all he could to keep his thoughts straying to Frollo...

Quasimodo set the basket of bread, cheese, and apples on his craft table. He decided that he would not eat his share of the meal due to the fact that he had no idea how hungry the poor girl would be once she woke up. He could make do without food for the day. He didn't need much to get by.

The hunchback returned to his room feeling a bit puzzled on what to do with himself again. Quasimodo knew that he could always keep watching over her, but for some reason, that just did not feel like _enough_. If she was in pain, he wanted to be able to _do_ something about it… but what on God's green earth was there that he could honestly do for her that he hadn't already done?

Could he... could perhaps speak to her?

Quasimodo's stomach churned at such a thought, but he saw no harm in what it could do. Perhaps it would pull her more from her unconsciousness.

Taking a very cautious step forward, he cleared his throat.

"H-hello..." he whispered, his voice suddenly quite hoarse, "I-I bet you're p-probably wondering how you ended u-up in this m-mess...I-I-I know I sure a-am."

His eyes widened. Oh! That could be taken the wrong way.

"N-not that I'm b-blaming you o-of course! I-I just mean- I...I d-don't usually f-find myself in these s-s-sort of situations. B-but I'm glad I'm here...I-I'm glad you're here. And s-safe."

Quasimodo eased a little bit further in the room, still feeling utterly ridiculous. His eyes landed on her book at his bed side table again.

"I-I-I saw that you r-read earlier. I-I've never met anyone w-who _loves_ to read. My m-master r-reads lessons and the b-bible and so d-do the people downstairs... b-but it's a-always the same thing. Do others a-admire y-you for it? For being d-different?" His eyes grew strangely sad at this.

"M-master always said b-being different was a bad thing... B-but when I-I look at you... I don't see that," Quasimodo turned away for a moment, feeling very humbled. Even though she said nothing... it was almost as if she could hear him, that she understood. This was very different than talking to the gargoyles. Oh, he was just being ridiculous! Still... he continued,"I-I know I'm different too. B-but I am n-not admired for it. I-I am a monster."

His mind searched desperately for more that he could say, but the shy Quasimodo could not for the life of him form his thoughts into words. It did not help that he feared she would wake any moment and he still had no idea what he would do.

This had been something he had just been kind of avoiding thinking about for a while now and since it was apparent that she was in fact making a recovery, he knew he couldn't avoid it for forever. Quasimodo was well aware that his face would probably frighten her right back into unconsciousness if it was the first thing she saw. Maybe hiding was the best choice and telling her to get the Archdeacon… But, he would feel like such a coward! It wasn't like he knew any better though.

Oh… he had never had to deal with anything like this before! Even though it made him nervous and caused much worry and stress, it still gave him something to do and something to look forward to and hope for.

Just then the sleeping woman made a small noise, her eyelashes fluttering a few times and her fingers snaking through the sheets of his sleeping mat.

Quasimodo went completely rigid as his limbs froze up. It was happening, he couldn't believe it.

She was waking up.

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><p><strong>AN:** **Oh dear, so sorry for the cliff-hanger! Don't forget to review!**

** Until next update** **(:**


	7. Whispers in the Dark

**A/N: Hey guys! Back with another update. Enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter – 7<p>

Whispers in the Dark

The first thing that she was made aware of as she came to was how much her head hurt. Her hair felt damp from slight perspiration and her skin felt like paper. Belle could not a recall a time she had ever felt so weak. What bothered her more was the fact that her left ankle was throbbing.

The young woman's eyes remained closed but her mind was racing a mile a minute. Why was she in pain? Why was she so weak?

It only took a few seconds for everything to come rushing back to her and her eyes shot open right away.

Where _was_ she?

Belle found herself staring straight up at a wooden ceiling, slight cracks between each beam letting the faintest hint of light through. She attempted to lift her head, but found that it felt as if a great boulder had replaced her brain and rolled to the back of her skull, forcing her to leave it pressed to the pillow. Her hair had been pulled loose from the ribbon she usually kept it in and was instead lying about her freely.

If she remembered correctly, she had been in a great deal of trouble last night. How on earth had she ended up in this room of all places? Last night she had felt nothing but fear… but here she felt almost comfortable and there was just something very pleasant and welcoming in the warm air. Belle was not sure if she should be fearful or content, but she found at the moment she was more curious than anything else.

Right now all she could see was the ceiling directly above her and just barely blurred things from her peripherals. With great effort on her part, she was able to turn her face to the left. From what she could tell, she was alone in some sort of room underneath a large platform of wood what was sheltered with cloth curtains. Her eyes landed on the bedside table and they widened at the sight of her book resting there next to a dying candle.

Well, surely she was not in a prison. If she were, Belle was certain that she would be a lot less comfortable and her book would definitely not be next to her.

As she woke up more, she slowly was beginning to become more and more aware of everything around her. Eventually she was able to feel the pressure of something wrapped securely around her head. Reaching up a little hesitantly and feeling around, she soon was able to grasp the concept that it was some sort of bandage. Had she been bleeding? A part from some aches, she didn't feel too bad. Her head was still ringing, but even that was beginning to fade a bit now that she was awake.

Belle laid there a few minutes more, allowing the strength to gradually return before finally, with an iron will, she forced herself to sit up. She clenched her teeth as every thought in her head told her to lay back down as well as every painful jolt through her body; but she fought it and ended up victorious.

Now that she was sitting upright, she was able to see the room more clearly. It was a quaint little place, nothing extravagant. It was simple in every way, yet comfortable and very warm. Belle felt… she almost felt at home in this little room. There was no door or door way, only curtains that were pulled back to a long wooden post that held the weight of the platform above her. Another candle was lite on the other side of the mat she was on and it was placed on the eerie statue of an outstretched hand. It was all so peculiar and intriguing. Did someone live here?

The bandage wrapped around her head began to itch a little and so she found herself pulling it loose after a moment and taking it off completely. The cloth was ripped and a dark, forest green color – not like any bandage she had ever seen before.

This whole situation was beginning to grow more and more interesting to her. Belle felt as if she should be frightened… maybe even nervous, but she wasn't at all. She was extremely curious and fascinated. Last night she had thought she was done for… but now she found that she was safe as could be in this humble yet lovely place.

The only thing that was a little concerning to Belle was that still she did not know where she was. Even now that she was able to see her surroundings, it didn't exactly answer her questions of where this place was located. Wherever she was currently residing, it was clear that the open air was somewhere near her due to the faint winds that would occasionally drift through.

Another thing she noticed as she came more and more to her senses was that this place was extremely quiet. This was very much a contrast to what she had known earlier with the extremely loud, constant shouting and moving on the streets of Paris. Was she not in Paris anymore? Such a thought was alarming to her… if that were the case then she was no longer near her Papa and that was by no means a good thing.

Thinking the worst, Belle decided that it was time for her to attempt to get up. This was not a wise decision, for the moment she put weight on her ankle she let out a gasp of pain and fell over again on to the mat. An impatient pout formed on her face as she blew the hair that had fallen in her eyes out of the way and tried once more to stand. This time she clutched the table next to her. It was very painful to put almost any weight on her ankle and so she kept it in the air while only standing on one foot. This was not going to work out very well at all.

Clenching her teeth in stubborn determination, Belle limped her way towards the opening in the curtains. If she could get to there then perhaps she would be able to see more of where she was and grasp an understanding of it. It took almost a whole minute for her to get there and several near falls, but finally she made it to her destination.

Her hazel eyes widened in shock and awe once they absorbed her surroundings. This… this was a bell tower. There was only one place this could be.

The Bell Tower of Notre Dame!

How on _earth_ had she gotten up here? There were wooden platforms all around her and the ceiling seemed to rise for miles. The bells loomed far above her and she could just barely make out their round shapes in the dark up high.

Before her thoughts could go any further, she heard a crash somewhere nearby and what she could have sworn were running footsteps. Belle jerked her head in the direction she had heard the noise, clenching her teeth as the action caused her head to spin painfully.

"Hello?" she questioned the darkness, taking a cautious, but aching step forward, "Is…is someone here?"

There was no noise, only the creaking of the wind rushing through the wood. Even though it was midday, it was still quite dark in the Bell Tower and Belle did not like the feeling of someone being there and her not able to see them

"Hello?" she repeated, walking steadily forward now while keeping her hand pressed to any support she could get.

Belle was so distracted by searching for the owner of the footsteps she had heard earlier, that she didn't notice the slight dip in the floorboards until it was too late.

In a lurch of gut-wrenching confusion, she was yet again caught off balance. Reaching out frantically, Belle was just able to grab a wooden post for support.

"Oh be careful!" a soft, breathy, near musical voice filled with concern echoed from somewhere above her.

Belle immediately raised her head upwards in the direction of the sound.

She _knew_ she wasn't alone! Since that was the case… _who_ was with her and _why_ were they hiding? Were they hiding from her? The voice that had spoken had indeed been male. Whoever was in here with her was a man.

"You can come out from wherever you're hiding… I promise I mean no harm," she said with a slight teasing note in her voice.

There was a long, drawn out moment of silence until she heard the voice speaking again.

"I-I I'm not hiding."

Her eyebrow raised. Then what did he call what he was doing now?

"You're not are you?" she asked with that same slight playful tone.

"N-no. I just l-l-like it up here is all," he finally answered.

How had he gotten up there? Where was he? Belle swiveled her head this way and that whilst looking upwards for the owner of the voice. Suddenly a thought came to her. She was in the Bell Tower after all… was this perhaps the bellringer?

"Are you the one who rings the bells?" she asked, suddenly feeling very honored to be in the presence of the man who created such a wonderful, lovely sound that had so enchanted her earlier.

"Yes."

A thrill of excitement coursed through her at this news and she completely forgot about the fact that he was hiding from her for a second.

"They're so beautiful. I love to listen to them," she said, only speaking the truth. So far since she had come here the only thing that had been remotely appealing to her had been Notre Dame and the wonderful, beautiful bells.

"Really? Y-you do? I-I-I mean thank you," the voice stated, sounding very timid. Belle couldn't understand why. Perhaps he was just extremely shy.

There was another long out moment of silence as Belle attempted to straighten herself up more and move along. Even though she was in pain, she was still very curious to see more of this place.

It was then that another thought occurred to her. Was this bellringer the one who had saved her last night?

There was only one way to find out.

"Monsieur… were you the one who helped me? Did you bring me here?" she asked, eager to find out who her savior was.

For the longest time nothing was spoken and Belle almost began to wonder if he had gone. Just when she was about to give up hope that he was still there, she heard his soft, pleasant voice drift through the air again.

"I did… b-but if you w-would rather be somewhere else the A-archdeacon can surely m-make arrangements…"

Belle abruptly shook her head. What could possible give him the idea that she did not like it here? She was completely and utterly fascinated by this place and definitely did not plan on leaving any time soon. Not with how bad her ankle ached.

"No, no that's all right. I am very happy up here," she said.

"You are?"

There was genuine surprise in the mysterious bellringer's voice that time and Belle could only wonder why.

"Well yes of course. It's lovely up here- from what I've seen. Thank you… thank you so much for helping me," she answered sincerely, wishing that she felt better enough to look around more.

Either the bellringer was trying to change the subject or he had noticed how she was favoring her left side because suddenly, she found he was questioning her well-being.

"How i-is your head?" I-is your a-ankle bothering you?" There was almost franticness in the way he rushed his speaking.

"My head feels a little better, thank you. But, my ankle does hurt to walk on," she answered, finding that it was probably best to be honest. There wasn't much that could be done with her ankle except that she should stay off of it and let nature heal it on its own. But of course her curiosity won out over what was practical, "I'll lay back down soon. I just wanted to see where I was."

"I-I-It's good to see you're all right," he said and Belle found her eyes softening at this.

"I am, thanks to you," she answered.

* * *

><p><em>I am, thanks to you<em>

Quasimodo found himself nearly freezing up after she said this. He had lost almost all sense. The fact that she had called him 'monsieur' earlier had already thrown him off, not to mention she had said she enjoyed his home _and_ said the bells were…beautiful. But, now… now she was _thanking_ him? Quasimodo could not believe it.

He watched her from high above within the shadows of his dearest bell Grand Marie, completely hidden from view. Quasimodo saw as she finally lowered herself to the ground and sat with her back pressed to the wooden post.

To see her staying still was relieving to him. Quasimodo had almost found himself rushing out to catch her to keep her from falling when she had tripped earlier. That would have ended terribly. She would have seen him. She would have screamed. And, that would have been the end of him.

Oh but how he wished he could go down there, introduce himself properly… be near her. Quasimodo shook his head.

That was just something that could not be.

With careful steps, he came out from under the bell and, balancing on the rafter, began to walk across. He then jumped down several feet to the next rafter below and then lowered himself to the floor. He tried to do all this with as little noise as possible. There wasn't a moment in which he was out in the open though, hiding behind various statues, pillars, or wood posts. With much speed, he ran out from behind his cover and grabbed onto the basket of food that was on his craft table before quickly clambering back into the shadows.

If she was hungry, he didn't want her to have to limp all the way to the food that was sent up here, but he also didn't want to hand it to her personally and have her see his face.

Quasimodo kept on walking and only stopped until he was directly across from where she was sitting, looking around. Thanks to the shadows, it was almost impossible for her to see him unless she was really looking, but luckily she was quite distracted by the bells looming above her.

He reached out and set the basket on top of the surface of a broken statue that provided a rather decent makeshift table. The hunchback did this quietly enough that she didn't even seem to notice. As soon as that task was accomplished, he rapidly climbed his way back up towards the bells over the platforms and further out of sight.

"A-are you hungry?" he finally asked after quite a long time of nothing being spoken between the two of them.

The way she started after he spoke told him that she must have thought he had left her a while ago. Quasimodo almost found himself stuttering out an apology, but he held his tongue and instead waited for her answer. It didn't take long for one to come.

"I am actually," she said, embarrassment almost in her voice.

"There is a basket f-for you on the t-table…" he said, watching as she directed her gaze to the table-like statue across from her.

"Thank you very much," she said before steadily and carefully standing to her feet with most her weight pressed against the post. It took her a while, but eventually she made it to the basket. She paused though before unfolding the napkins that covered the meal.

"Aren't you going to eat too?" she asked.

Quasimodo's brow furrowed.

He wasn't used to anyone asking him to eat with them. Master usually only ate with him because he felt he had to… and even then it had been so long since they had sat down and enjoyed a luncheon together. At least several months. Usually now he only came for brief lessons or to simply check on him. Sometimes, and much to his guilt, Quasimodo wondered if it was just because he wanted to make sure he was still abiding by his rule of never leaving the tower. But, he knew better than to question his master.

"D-don't worry about me. I-I'm fine, really. All of it is f-for you," he answered.

The woman looked almost surprised at the amount of food she had been given.

"I couldn't possibly eat this much, please come and eat as well," she requested, clearly wanting to find a way to meet him and also wanting to share.

Quasimodo shook his head and shrunk further back into the shadows.

"I-I'm not hungry," he said. And, in all honesty… he wasn't. His stomach was so twisted into knots at the moment, even the thought of food was enough to cause nausea to wash over him.

He was just still in awe of everything that had happened and how these series of events had lead him to this point… and he was also in awe of _her_.

He could finally see her eyes and they were beyond anything he had imagined them being. They were bright… so full of life, hope, promise; he hadn't seen anything quite like it before. The way she looked around, the way she focused… he did not need to even look that hard to be able to pick up on how intelligent she was. Such beauty.

An adorable pout formed on her lips at his refusal and once more Quasimodo yearned to be able to go down there and join her.

With a sigh she finally gave up and sat back down with the basket in her lap.

"Well, if you're sure," she said, defeated.

Quasimodo watched on in silence as she tore the bread in half and began to eat. He let her be and decided that it was perhaps for the best that she forgot he was there… even though he secretly still wanted to continue talking with her. It wasn't like he was carrying much of a conversation though. Any time he parted his lips to speak, his mouth ran dry and his thoughts scattered. He longed to ask her name, but he had no courage to be so bold.

How surprised he was when suddenly she spoke once more, obviously still interested in the mysterious bellringer above her for reasons he could not understand.

"How long have you been up here?"

He knew that this question shouldn't have been as surprising to him as it was, but at the same time Quasimodo had been so used to only Frollo and a select few members of the church knowing that he lived up here. For all the girl could know, he lived off in a cottage along with all the other town folk and came up here during the day…

Oh if only.

"My whole life. This i-is where I live," he answered.

The girl almost dropped the hold she had on her bread.

"You _live_ here?" she gasped, finding this to be both fascinating and almost sad. "Your whole life? Don't you ever leave?"

Quasimodo rubbed his hands together uneasily. Had he said something wrong?

"I-I-I'm not supposed to," he struggled getting the words out, not entirely sure how she was going to take this information or where this conversation would even go.

There was silence though and Quasimodo found he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. What could she possibly be thinking of? This young woman seemed to really enjoy asking questions and Quasimodo also seemed to enjoy answering them even if he did struggle a bit with the right thing to say. To have her suddenly be so quiet was almost nerve racking.

"Are you at least happy?" she asked finally, her voice significantly quieter than before. Was she afraid she had offended him? Oh! He hoped not. Anything that caused her discomfort was a sin in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, the woman was actually holding back asking him why it was, but it wasn't any of her business and so she refrained.

"I am," he answered, slightly taken aback. No one had ever asked him such a thing before. No one had ever _cared_ to ask him such a thing. Was he truly happy? What was happiness? Was it what he was feeling now as he spoke with her?

"That's all that matters I suppose," she said in response, still a bit bemused by this curious fellow that would not show himself.

Suddenly she looked pensive and distant as she continued with her meal. Quasimodo could not help but wonder what was going through her head now. She said no more and he realized that he did not like it when she wasn't talking. Before he could stop himself, he was speaking this time.

"Y-you are sad…" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. It was not a question.

The girl looked up in the direction she thought he was after he had spoken up.

"I'm not sad. You are just very lucky," she replied, setting aside the food for the time being. Smoothing out her skirt, she carefully brought her knees towards her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Lucky?" he asked, distracted by how small and vulnerable she suddenly looked in the current position she was in. He didn't like it

"You can live up here and never go anywhere and still you are happy. I've traveled here from very far away and can go wherever I please, but I am not…" she paused and placed her chin on her knee. "It seems almost selfish…" He had so little and she had so much…

Quasimodo's jaw almost went slack upon hearing this. He didn't understand… how did that make her selfish? She certainly didn't seem that way in the least! Still, he hardly knew what to make of her words. Him? Lucky? Perhaps… the Lord did provide for him after all.

"Oh! Y-you're not selfish at all. We…we just live differently," he answered, finding a little more confidence in himself that he had not known was there before.

The young woman smiled gently at this. Quasimodo found he really loved it when she did that. And it was because of something _he_ had done! He…he wanted to do it again, to give her a reason to smile.

"You must be confused by how I even ended up where I did…" she said, realizing that he had to have seen what had happened with those pigs last night being as how he had been able to save her before anything terrible happened.

He had in fact wondered several times, but just could not bring himself to ask and instead waited quietly to see if she would say more.

She seemed to pick up on his hesitance and so she continued.

"My Papa and I just moved here yesterday morning and these guards pulled us over accusing us of boarding gypsies, but when they found out otherwise they let us go. When I was out later that day, they went after me out of nowhere and I still have yet to know why…" she said.

Quasimodo took in this information without saying a word, just simply listening – learning more about her than he ever imagined he would.

The girl continued.

"If it weren't for this one gypsy man showing me a place to hide just in time, I would probably be in prison right now. I waited there until night fall to go home… but I ended up here instead," she finished.

Quasimodo's eyes grew big. She was the girl the guards were looking for after all! It all made sense now…

Oh thank Heaven for Sanctuary.

"Th-the guards were here this m-morning. They were looking f-f-for you," he said, deciding it would be good for her to know…

Her lovely head jerked up in surprise, her eyes wide pools of fear.

"They did?"

"Yes… b-b-but you have Sanctuary. Y-you are safe a-as long as you are here," he said, quick to try and ease any fear he might have caused her.

"Sanctuary?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"While you are h-here, no one can t-touch you or harm you," he answered. Quasimodo was pleased with himself that he was able to answer a question that could comfort her.

A sad smile spread across her beautiful face.

"I can't leave…" she said, her voice very quiet,"Oh Papa..."

Quasimodo wondered if he was supposed to be hearing what it was she was saying. However, shortly after, she spoke up to a volume that was more audible.

"Thank you for bringing me to such a safe place. I would much rather be here than a cold and dark prison…"

The bellringer didn't think he would ever get used to her thanking him. This had been… what? The third or fourth time already? It was very strange and new.

She was just so very kind… he almost couldn't help but wonder – No! It could never be. He could never show his face no matter how accepting and genuine she seemed. Master had nailed it into his head enough that he knew he was a deformed, hideous monster and it was his sin, his cross to bear alone.

"Y-you're welcome," he finally said, "I c-couldn't let them hurt y-you…"

"You are very kind. What is your name?" she asked.

There was a pause as the hunchback tried his hardest to pull himself together. Talking to her was going to take some getting used to… especially if she was going to say such sweet things.

"Quasimodo," he eventually answered- introducing himself for the first time ever to anyone.

He watched as the girl's eyebrows rose at this.

"Quasimodo? As in Quasimodo Sunday?" she asked, seemingly very interested in his name. He couldn't imagine why, though he had yet to hear anyone else be called by it.

"Yes. It was the day I was found," he said, "my m-master named me after it."

"You have a _master_?" she questioned, surprise very much evident in her voice. Not only was he_ found_ but he had no real parent either?

Quasimodo almost reeled back at this. Was having a master bad? It wasn't as if he could know otherwise.

"I-I-I've always c-c-called him that," he said timidly, the stutter coming back into his voice even though it had slowly started to lift earlier.

"Is this _master_ the man who raised you?"

"Well, yes…" Quasimodo answered, not sure he was keen on where this was going.

"That…that isn't right. You're supposed to call those who raise you Mother and Father… Not Master," she tried to explain.

"H-he's told me to call him that f-for as long as I c-c-can remember…" the hunchback also tried to explain. He just couldn't see how it was wrong. It was all he had ever known. All he had ever called him. Master Frollo had never been a father to him, though he sometimes would imagine him to be. He was his master. That was just how it was and, as with everything that involved Claude Frollo, Quasimodo never questioned it.

The subject seemed to float in the air for a few minutes, but eventually they both just sort of let it go after a bit of silence passed.

"Quasimodo… it's a strange name, one I've never heard before. But, I like it. It's different…" she said almost partially to herself.

Once again the boy found himself a little puzzled by this. In most of his lessons he had learned that different was bad, but in the way she spoke of it… different was viewed in a good light. And… she liked his name. Still, he couldn't help but ask the question that came next.

"Is…is different good?" He almost sounded like an innocent, curious child by the way he voiced this, but he barely noticed. He really just wanted to know.

"Certainly. Different is wonderful. It brings interest, color, and light to the dull, gray, and dark," she answered almost right away.

Quasimodo could tell by the way she spoke how passionately she felt on this subject; and while it was far-fetched from a lot that he had learned in the past… he found that he agreed with her... just maybe.

Slowly, the young woman began to stand back up, clutching on to the statue-table next to her for support. Once she was up, she set the basket of food on the surface and turned back towards where she believed Quasimodo to be.

"I think I will go and lie down again. My ankle could use the rest and I think I could too," she said. Her brow wrinkled for a moment as a thought seemed to come to her suddenly. "Will you still be here later?"

Quasimodo's eyes grew wide yet again, but they didn't stay that way for long as a true smile made its way across his lopsided face.

"I-If you want me to be…"

"I do."

"Then I will."

The girl looked satisfied by this and continued to limp her way back towards his room. When she finally reached the threshold of the curtains, she stopped and turned back towards him even though she could not see him

"I know I've already said this several times but, thank you for everything you've done for me. It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Quasimodo. My name is Belle." With a final smile, she pulled the curtains so they covered the room completely and he saw no more of her.

He sat there at the top of the rafters utterly stunned.

_Belle_

Saying not a word, he climbed his way higher up towards the bell ringing platform, knowing that once again, duty called.

Quasimodo grasped the rope in his sure and firm grip, waiting.

Belle. She was Belle. Like his iron beauties he held so dear. The bells._  
><em>

"Belle..."

Beautiful. Fine. Pretty.

It was a word invented for her.

With bright and happy eyes, he looked up towards his dear friends before pulling the rope that allowed them to sing. This time though they weren't only announcing the hour… they were announcing his joy.

* * *

><p>Far below in the secluded room shielded by curtains and lite only by two candles, Belle laid there upon the mat reading her book. Even though she saw the words before her eyes, she was not absorbing any of what she was reading.<p>

Instead her mind was on the strange but kind boy who had helped her. His whispers in the dark had been very comforting. While she wondered why he would not reveal himself, Belle still looked forward to when they would speak again and perhaps learning more about him.

When the bells began to ring, she smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And there you have it! What you've all been waiting for. They are just so adorable... I hope I'm still doing their characters justice. Hehe if any of you are familiar with the musical, _Notre Dame de Paris_... then perhaps you caught the slight song reference I made. I couldn't help it... it just fit too well. She is _Belle_ after all.  
><strong>

** Thanks for reading and for your reviews! They are so very appreciated. Keep 'em coming! :D  
><strong>

**I dedicate this chapter to my friends Aly, Starrie, and Jake. If it weren't for them... I wouldn't love writing as much as I do... and this story wouldn't be here!**

**ANYWAYS. I hope you all have a fantastic Thanksgiving! And expect more coming your way soon!**


	8. Is This Home?

**A/N: Heeeere's chapter 8. And my goodness did this end up much longer than I thought. I supposed this will make up for the slight wait.**

**A side note: A bit of Follo's past is revealed here. And yes I am aware that it's not exactly how it was in the book. However, I do not intend to have him hopelessly lust after Belle in this story (that is Victor Hugo's idea alone) and so I felt as if I needed to give him another reason for his passionate determination to destroy the gypsies. **

**And before anyone asks, yes the chapter name is indeed a nod towards the song in the BatB Broadway musical.  
><strong>

**Anyways, please enjoy! I had fun with this one (:**

* * *

><p>Chapter – 8<p>

Is This Home?

He had been a particularly good mood that day. Under his watch, three gypsies had been taken into custody and were being carted off to the Palace of Justice this very moment.

If Claude Frollo could have it his way, they would have been hanged by now without a prayer or a ceremony of any kind. There was no need for a trial. No matter what they said, the demons were guilty and deserved to be cast back down to the flames of Hell where they belonged. They were fools to think that they could call Paris their home.

These ghastly hornets found ways in no matter how many gates he sealed off. He could continue swatting them away, but that didn't stop them from occasionally stinging.

It was going on late afternoon as he rode his horse along the streets, heading towards the palace. Their trial was drawing near and as the figure of law in Paris it was his obligation to attend. And, quite honestly, Frollo found himself looking forward to it. It had been a few days since true justice had been served.

Several minutes later, he found himself strolling down the dark halls; his shadow bouncing along the walls by the light of the flickering torches.

Further down the corridor, he could hear low, rushed speaking and Frollo sneered angrily as he realized it was _them_ talking. They probably exchanging incantations of dark magic for all he knew. While he himself had a hidden interest in alchemy, this filthy witchcraft that the gypsies wallowed themselves in was far from anything holy and sickened him to the very core.

They had ruined everything he held dear. When he had been a mere lad, they destroyed his family for reasons he would perhaps never understand. His mother, his father… when the gypsies had come, they had brought with them the plague; he was certain of it, and it was the plague that had been their undoing.

He had been left alone to raise his only brother… and even then that had not been enough. Perhaps it had been that strange, foreign loneliness that he felt that had led to him taking in the abandoned, deformed baby Quasimodo on the foundling's bed all those years ago.

To this day he couldn't explain what had brought on such an act of compassion, but he regretted it now. It had been easy enough at first, but now the boy was growing restless. He had the mark of the gypsy on him, he just knew it; and gypsy blood could never be suppressed. It had been easy enough, teaching him, sheltering him – but now, now the ungrateful hunchback was beginning to think more for himself than ever before; and although he spoke nothing of it… Frollo could see the questioning behind his eyes. The questions he had been forbidden to ask all his life.

_Why am I here? Why do I look like this? Why must I stay? Who are you really? What do you hide? Why do you hate gypsies so? What is this alchemy? _

He could read Quasimodo like a gypsy could read the future on a fool's palm and even though the boy tried to hide his curiosity, Frollo was very much aware of it. Something would need to be done soon. He had built down the hunchback's confidence enough… now all it would take would be to break his spirit completely. For, once it was broken, there would be no yearning to understand, to see beyond what he already knew. And that would prove to be a much less hassle for Frollo.

It was strange to think behind that hideous, demon face, there dwelled a mind. A mind that was actually quite clever and had an impressive thirst for knowledge. Frollo had not guessed such a thing when he had taken him in so long ago… he figured he would be as mindless as he was ugly. How surprised he was to see how quickly he picked up on reading and writing. Of course he would never admit to Quasimodo how intelligent he believed he was. It was important for the lad to always think he was slow, stupid, and naïve. The less he thought of himself, the better chance there was of him constantly following his guidance. It annoyed and disgusted him that he even had to admit the hunchback's intelligence to himself.

This was the longest that Frollo had dwelled on Quasimodo in quite a while. He could only ever recall thinking of him this much back when he was just a toddler and fearing for those in the church that might see him.

It had been a couple days since his last visit, though Frollo did not plan to see him again anytime soon. He had no reason to. The boy – man really – was perfectly capable of being by himself. It was just the thought of him exposing himself to the outside world and revealing what he, Frollo had been trying to keep secret for twenty years that was unsettling to him.

It was not time to think of the monster bellringer of Notre Dame. It was time to give up his will to God and allow Him to act through him as he confronted Satan's demons.

As he entered the dungeon, immediately his eyes locked on to the muttering gypsies locked in separate cells. The way they paced and moved about almost caused him to smirk. How very predictable. Gypsies _never_ did well behind stone walls. It was one of the best ways their heathen ways could be slightly contained.

Before Frollo could go much further, he was suddenly jarred from his focus by the sounds of muffled coughing in the cell next to him. Frustrated, he jerked his head in the direction of the occupant.

Almost right away he recognized it to be the older man he had had arrested a few days ago. He had nearly left his thoughts until just now. True, what he had done had been both offensive and sinful towards the Lord, but there wasn't much that could be done about him until his witch daughter was caught as well. And, being as how nothing could currently be done, Frollo didn't dwell upon it… his focus was far greater than that.

Even though he had never laid eyes upon the prisoner's daughter, he was certain that she was just as guilty as he; and it would be proved as such once she was behind bars as well.

It was a good thing he was a patient man, he would have grown far more irate with his buffoon guards and their lack of having the ability of catching her. This only proved more to him that she was indeed associated with dark magic. How else could a simple woman evade highly skilled soldiers? Unless of course she dealt with the gypsies… but that also would have her end up here.

To his astonishment, the man in the cell spoke up before he could continue towards the gypsies to begin their trial.

"M-minister… Please… don't let them take my daughter. She's done nothing. Just leave her be," he begged, falling to his knees and reaching through the bars to grasp at his robes. "Do all you want to me, just don't take my daughter!"

Frollo pulled away in disgust.

"Silence, vermin! She will be held on trial as you will. And when you are proven guilty you both will hang," he spat having no patience for the pathetic begging. Even the most patient of people had their breaking points.

"No… no. She's done nothing. _She's done nothing_!" he continued to plead.

"Desist this instant!" Frollo was very close to walking away from this man and continuing his original goal with sentencing the gypsies; however he was not someone to turn their back on a confrontation. Such things happened for a reason.

The broken man hung his head and slunk away back in to the shadows.

"Just don't let her feel pain…" Frollo heard him whisper to no one.

Such a useless plea. Life was pain.

Straightening his hat, Frollo turned from the prisoner at last and said no more as he bitterly walked off.

* * *

><p>The morning light slowly filled the room and caressed her cheek like a breath of warm air. Belle's eyes fluttered open shortly after the feeling reached her. This time as she awakened, she was nowhere near as startled as she had been the day before.<p>

She had grown familiar with her surroundings and now she was quite comfortable here. Belle realized though that it wasn't just the warmth of the room, or her pleasant surroundings… it was the knowledge that someone was looking after her. It was strange, normally Belle figured any normal person would be concerned by the fact that they weren't alone, but she was quite at ease knowing that the strong and kind bellringer, Quasimodo was nearby.

The girl had no reason not to trust him. Even though she had only spoken with him once since meeting him yesterday afternoon, he had proven to be someone she could believe in. There was just one thing that had only slightly started bothering her.

She still did not know what he looked like.

Not only did she want to see the face of the one who had saved her life so that she could thank him truly and properly, but she also wanted to know what he looked like. Was it wrong that she was so curious? It was just a part of her that could not be helped. Though she was just as respectful as she was curious and so she respected Quasimodo's privacy as well.

Instead, she only silently hoped that in the very near future he would show himself to her while secretly picturing what he looked like in her mind's eye.

Belle could not think of a reason he wouldn't want to fully introduce himself. Sure there were thoughts that occasionally passed across her mind, but she usually brushed them off thinking that it honestly could not be that bad. The men she had had to face that awful night in Notre Dame square were more frightening than Quasimodo could ever be. She could only think that the reason was that he was simply shy; especially after staying up here and hardly talking to anyone all his life.

The first thing she was aware of though as the sleepy haze wore off was how much better her ankle felt. Now of course it wasn't completely healed or anything like that, but she at least felt as if she could put more pressure on it.

After lying there a few more minutes, Belle decided that that was exactly what she was going to do.

Sitting up was a much easier task than it had been yesterday. Her head hardly ached anymore. Thanks to Quasimodo and his care, she was making a rapid recovery. Yet again he gave her a reason to thank him. However, Belle felt almost as if he didn't like it when she did that. She could not for the life of her understand why – as it was with quite a few things with him. But, that wasn't going to stop her from being polite. She could never escape how she had been raised and so she would always have manners.

With careful and sure footing, she was able to stand to her feet. There was still a dull ache, but it was far better than before. She didn't have to use support this time and could actually walk better.

Excitement flared through Belle right away when she realized that this meant she could explore more. She had only seen a small portion of the entire, large Bell Tower; and now that she could move better, she planned on seeing even more. There had been several platforms around her yesterday that had ladders going up them. Belle felt that perhaps now she would be able to climb them and see more of what was around her.

Carefully, she began to walk forward- her pace a little faster than it had been before.

When she reached the place where she had pulled the curtains closed, she stopped and tied them back to the post again. This way more light was able to fill the small, quaint room.

Belle made her way to the ladder several yards away that was straight ahead of her. Part of her was almost prepared to call out for Quasimodo and see if he was still there, but there was another part of her that worried of bothering him.

This was _his_ home after all and Belle felt as if he would talk to her when he felt like it and that she should wait for him to come to her.

As she began to climb the ladder though, she hesitated for a moment as another thought reached her.

Perhaps he would not approve of her looking around…

She had to shake her head though. Surely not… Someone as kind as Quasimodo wouldn't mind her exploring…would he?

Her curiosity won out over the conflict (as it usually did) and she soon found herself almost at the top of the ladder.

When finally her head peeked over and what was on the platform reached her gaze, Belle's breath caught in her throat.

This place was… _magnifique_

Before Belle's eyes was a place she was sure could only be envisioned in dreams.

The rising sun pooled in through a large opening behind a small table with strange shapes on it. Above the table was an almost mobile looking thing hanging from the ceiling with shards of sparkling, colorful glass flecking against the light- shadows of rainbows casted themselves against the walls and floor boards. There were strange statues of the many all around the place, some broken, some in perfect condition, and some obviously once broken but repaired to be something entirely different. Even the grotesque gargoyles peeking through the shadows were unusually appealing to her. And the bells… she could see some of them clearer now. To call them lovely would be an understatement. Their bronze color glowed against the morning light in a powerful, captivating manner – making her feel as if she were spinning in the flaming rays of the sun.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself all the way to the top of the platform and stood there in awe. When she took a closer look at the table, her eyes widened as she realized that the strange shapes on top were carvings. And not just any carvings… but buildings and people all shaped carefully to resemble a near perfect replica of Notre Dame square.

Belle drew closer to have a better look and almost laughed out loud at the amazing and incredible detail put into the miniature cathedral. It even had wooden bells inside the two towers! There were carvings of all the people below and Belle almost gasped as she realized she even recognized some of them. When she looked back at the carving of Notre Dame, however, he eyes narrowed.

Atop the wooden cathedral was a figurine not at all like the others that were at the bottom. Belle reached out and ran a finger over the fine red hair made from yarn. There was no definite shape to this carving… it seemed to be made of several different shapes with none matching or collaborating with the other. Yet, it was clear that it was supposed to be human like the rest. Similar to some of the statues, the carving almost looked like it could have been broken and then clumsily repaired again. It was lumpy and not nearly as appealing to look at as the other figures were. But... Belle found that she was more taken with this figurine than any other… simply because it was different and like nothing she'd ever seen before.

As she looked upon the strange, scrunched and contorted wooden face, she found several thoughts racing to her. Why did it look like this? Why was it above while everyone else was below? Was this… was it Quasimodo?

It was the only thing that made sense – though Belle wasn't going to completely decide that it was true until she saw the real man for herself.

She was then nearly scared out of her wits as the bells above started to ring. Jumping in surprise, she knocked the figurine from the tower and it landed on the floor with a hollow thump and rolled away several feet. Belle took a moment to compose herself and still her heart before bending down and picking it up.

As she held it in her hand, she tilted the carving this way and that under her gaze. Nothing about it made sense but she found she liked it that way. Looking around sheepishly, she placed the figurine back where it was on the tower and stepped back to admire the entire village.

Now she understood how Quasimodo could be happy up here. He… he clearly had an amazingly profound imagination and saw things around him that so many others did not… things that she herself could see as well.

Belle was mystified by this observation and turned away from the table to focus on something else.

It was weird to think that somewhere above her Quasimodo was not too far away at all ringing the bells. If she really wanted to see him, it probably would be not that hard at all to climb to the platform where he rang the bells… but Belle was far too respectful to do such a thing. He was the only friendly person she had met since she came here besides that gypsy… there was no way she was going to jeopardize that simply because she had a near uncontainable curiosity.

It was a good thing she was not a feline for she most certainly would have been killed long ago…

The bells were ten times as loud as they were when she had been out on the square. Belle almost had to fight the urge to cover her ears. It was a wonder to her that Quasimodo could ring them day in and day out and still hear. Perhaps he was just used to it.

Even though they were loud, Belle still took pleasure in listening to them and just as she had before, she stood there, swaying long with their rhythm with a sweet smile on her face.

She could just make out the sight of a few of them tolling above and she watched, fixated. They were so huge! To make them move had to call for great strength… Belle could hardly begin to imagine.

Without warning, she saw the dark shape of what looked like a figure jumping from one bell to the other. It happened so fast that if she had blinked, she would have missed it. Belle gasped and strained her eyes to see more, but the shadow was gone.

Somewhere near her, she heard the sound of a strong force hitting the floorboards and she could only guess that it was Quasimodo jumping down from above.

Belle found she felt almost nervous of all things. She suddenly did not know what to do with herself. Should she move? Should she greet him? Should she just stay still and silent? Even though she had been certain before that Quasimodo would not mind her looking around – she now was second guessing herself. This place was obviously a part of his home as well and she had sort of just intruded into it…

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and Belle quickly twirled around to see if she could get a better look, but whoever or whatever it was had darted off back into the shadows of the sheltering statues and platforms. He truly was a part of this place.

Having had enough of hide and seek, Belle decided that she would speak out finally despite her previous plan.

"Quasimodo?" she asked figuring that he was the shadow that she was only catching brief glimpses of.

Somewhere on the platforms above her, she heard a crash of something falling over and hitting the ground and shattering everywhere.

"O-oh Belle! I-I-I-I didn't expect t-to find you h-here!" he cried, panic in his voice. She had nearly seen him!

Belle immediately felt guilty for 'snooping' around and lowered her gaze meekly to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Quasimodo… I just was looking. You have a beautiful home… I'm very sorry I'll go back down and –"

"No, no! _I'm_ sorry. Y-you are w-welcome here. This is y-your home t-t-too…" he said, startling Belle even more. How could he possibly be sorry when he had done no wrong at all? She was definitely the one in the wrong here this time. Still, it moved her deeply that he called this place her home as well.

_But… Is this home? Is this where I can be happy?_ She wondered silently to herself. It couldn't possibly be home without her Papa, but for now she had no other choice. As much as she wished this place to be like a home… it was not. It was still a prison. Belle tried to shake those thoughts from her head and decided to answer Quasimodo

"You have no reason to apologize. I am the one who is sorry for intruding. But, as long as you're all right with it, I will stay for a little while. I like it up here," she said, looking around the space and the spectacular view he had of not only the streets of Paris but of the entire interior of the Bell Tower as well.

"I do too," Quasimodo said, smiling from within the shadows not too far above her.

Belle couldn't help but smile at this as well. Yet another thing they had in common. Once again she was reminded of how she was relating with someone who she not only barely knew but also she didn't even know what he looked like! As much as she wanted to view herself as ridiculous, she just couldn't.

She was alone and afraid and this kind man was the only human contact she had. It all strangely made sense.

Her eyes fell back to the perfect carvings on the table behind her.

"You made all of these…" she said, obviously not asking a question.

From the way that Quasimodo did not answer her, probably due to embarrassment, Belle knew it to be true.

Inching over towards the figurines again, she picked one up that resembled the fishmonger.

"Quasimodo… these are perfect... You have an amazing eye…" she kneeled down then to get a closer look, eyeing each work of art and soaking up their brilliant details, "you see things any normal person would miss…"

"Well, I-I'm not normal…" he said.

Belle was surprised to hear dismay in his voice rather than appreciation at her compliment. Since when did being normal have to do with anything?

She stood up then and looked around for where she guessed him to be.

"Being different is not a bad thing. I thought I told you this yesterday," she said gently, still wondering what on earth could cause him to feel this way about himself, "I'm not normal either."

"Wh-what?" Genuine shock was in his normally sweet and light voice. He was occasionally hard of hearing due to constantly ringing the bells, perhaps he had heard wrong! Oh, but he hadn't.

Belle continued.

"I'm like you… I see things others do not. I think about things that many wouldn't even consider, and I do what a lot are afraid to do. But, despite what they say to me, I stay who I am because I know being different is not wrong."

Whoever had told the poor boy otherwise was positively cruel and if she were to ever face the 'culprit', Belle was certain she would give him a talking to about how distorted his views were.

"Not being normal is special. It's unique. And you, Quasimodo are very talented. I've never met anyone who can make such lovely things as you," she said, trying to coax him back into speaking.

By this point, the poor hunchback was almost totally struck dumb by all that was just said to him. He longed to say something but it was as if his lips were sewn shut and refused to move. She _compared_ herself to _him_. She thought _he_ was _special. _

And the most amazing part of it all?

He _almost_ believed her. Almost.

"Th-th-thank you…" he finally managed to stammer out. He didn't understand how others could give her a hard time. She was absolutely beautiful…

But, as he thought a little more on it, Quasimodo realized that maybe acceptance wasn't just about appearances as he had been raised to think it was. Perhaps it was also about who a person was.

Whoever couldn't accept this beautiful and intelligent woman was a fool.

"You truly captured its essence, I never noticed how lovely the city is until now… and I've actually been _down_ there," she went on.

Quasimodo smiled and ducked his head modestly, closing his eyes. He desperately wanted to change the subject to something more interesting than himself. He had never been complimented before until he had met her – he didn't know how to take it to be completely honest.

"Wh-where did you travel from?" he asked, that being the first topic that came to mind. He remembered her very clearly saying that she had moved here. That made sense though for Quasimodo could not at recall seeing her ever before.

"A small town about a three and a half day trip from Versailles," she said, calculating in her head how long she and her Papa had traveled with Philippe.

Quasimodo just nodded his head, though she couldn't see it. He had no idea where that was. He had never been in need of a map. Instead he found another question dancing on his lips.

"Why d-did you decided to c-come here?" It seemed a reasonable enough question and one he hoped she wouldn't get offended by. He was genuinely curious to learn more about her and how she had ended up in such a terrible situation. It just made no sense that the guards would so heartlessly try to throw her in prison.

"My father invents things for a living. It's not only part of our livelihood, but it's also his passion. And, he wanted to share his greatest accomplishment with a bigger crowd than the skeptical folk in our village," she explained. Speaking of her Papa had gotten her missing him all over again.

Quasimodo was utterly fascinated by this. An inventor?

"He's a little similar to you, Quasimodo- he makes wonderful things with only his hands and his mind."

"B-b-but what he makes is useful…" _And he probably looks normal_…

"And who says what you make isn't either? You know, he was given a hard time a lot for being different as well. Each person is different in their own way. There are just some people who are more accepting than others…"

This was definitely news to him. Quasimodo had always believed that absolutely no one could accept him. To suddenly hear that there were perhaps some out there that would… he hardly even knew what to make of it. Though rest assured, it certainly brought warm feelings to his heart. …And he didn't feel as alone.

"What is y-your home like?" he asked. He had lived all his life behind stone in his house in the sky. He was itching to know what it was like to live in a place that was so far and different from his own haven.

Belle could not help but smile brighter. For some reason it made her happy that Quasimodo was beginning to ask more questions. He was just as interested in her as she was in him.

"It's a small place. The cottage really only has room enough for two or three people. But, it's a lovely home. We have a few acres of land and a horse, a couple sheep, a rooster, and a fat old white hen that has an attitude problem," she spoke as if she was in a dream, her tone heavy, and filled with a strange longing. However, when she got to the part of the temperamental hen, her eyes cleared and she laughed softly at this.

Quasimodo himself found a sigh of yearning leave him.

"It sounds wonderful," he whispered. He could picture it all so clearly in his head and it was beautiful.

"It is… I miss it so much. I never thought I would…" Belle's suddenly glazed over again, "we never know what we have and how dear it is to us until it isn't there anymore…"

To think she had once complained of it all being provincial…

She was musing out loud, but her hushed words still had quite the effect on Quasimodo who didn't know what to think of them. They hit closely to his heart but he could not understand why.

"I-I'd like to see it someday…" he thought out loud, not realizing that he had until it was too late. His face was suddenly the shade of his vibrant hair.

He was so distracted being mortified with himself that he missed the excited smile that graced Belle's face and accented her gentle dimples.

"Maybe you will…" she said, slightly surprised at his words as well. She had not expected Quasimodo to say something so bold… well, bold for _him _at least. The fact that he had said that he would like to one day see her farm filled her with the hope that just maybe she was a step closer to seeing him… and him perhaps one day breaking free from this place. It still baffled her that he had to stay. She just couldn't wrap her mind around it.

Quasimodo continued to be silent and Belle realized that he probably had also realized what he had said and was embarrassed. Though there was hardly anything for him to be embarrassed about…

She decided to give him a couple minutes to himself and so focused her attention elsewhere.

Belle continued to marvel over the carvings. She stopped for a moment, though as she laid eyes on a carving reflecting some of the colored lights from the mobile above that very much resembled the gypsy man, Clopin that had helped her a couple days ago. Wordlessly, she picked it up and examined it.

Quasimodo noticed how her eyes lingered on it and he remembered her saying something yesterday about how a gypsy had helped her. That didn't add up right in his head.

Gypsies were evil. They didn't help anyone. At least… that's what Master had always told him.

He had been taught that gypsies stole and lied… that they could trick the mind. Such things were frightening to him; though it was mostly because he didn't understand it. He also felt that there had to be more to it… But, Master always seemed to know best; and so he tried not to dwell too much on the subject if he could help it.

But… with Belle here Quasimodo found himself questioning all he ever knew more and more. Was his Master perhaps wrong in this as well as he had been when he spoke of different being a negative thing?

How could that be? He had been so sure…

He almost felt as if he should be more concerned than he was about how life as he knew it could possibly be shifting around completely. Yet… he just wasn't.

It was almost as if these were things he had known all along in the very back of his mind but had never dared to dwell on.

Now… this woman was bringing it all to the light for the first time in his life.

"Do you kn-know the gypsies?" he finally found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Belle set the Gypsy King model back on the table and faced his direction again, obviously a bit confused on what had brought his question on.

"Not really. I've read about them and as I said yesterday, one helped me; but other than that, that's all. I wish I knew more though…"

"Y-you mean the one th-that helped you d-didn't try to st-steal from you or anything?" he asked.

"No not at all. He was very kind," she said, a questioning beginning to form in her eyes at where Quasimodo could possibly be going with his questions.

"I was a-always told gypsies were…evil," he said almost hesitantly.

Belle could not stop the next thing that came from her.

"Probably from this 'master', right?" she asked, her voice a little more sharp than she meant for it to be. It was most certainly not directed at Quasimodo… she was just getting very irate with this unknown 'Master' and how he seemed to have such a negative influence over the bellringer's life. What was he trying to do telling him all these things! It was not right at all.

However, the silence that followed her previous bitter question alerted her that she might have crossed a line and Belle suddenly felt terribly guilty.

"Quasimodo… I-"

"You are right," he said then, his voice sounding strange, forced, and trembling. "He t-tells me all these things so that I-I might stay in this tower…"

Belle still felt overwhelmingly bad for causing him to sound this way. It was time for her to try and fix whatever it was that had gotten him to sound like that.

"Why must you stay? Why can't you leave when you are just as entitled to walk around as he?" she asked, trying to give him more confidence. It was beyond wrong to force a grown man to remain in this place no matter what the conditions were.

There was a very long pause.

"I-It's for my own p-protection," he finally answered.

Judging by the way his voice sounded… Belle decided it was a good idea to probably stray from the subject. She felt as if she was so close to a break through, but she was not going to push him… certainly not. Belle would let him tell her when he chose to. Whenever that may be.

She had complete faith that he would though. Belle couldn't explain how she knew, she just did.

"How long have you been working on this, well… masterpiece?" she inquired, hoping to continue speaking with him. Plus she really was curious to know more about this craft table.

Quasimodo seemed to catch on to what she was doing right away and was very thankful. Even though it threw him off that she called his work a masterpiece, he still found this question a much easier one to answer than the ones she was asking before.

Though, he felt he should have figured as much. She was very intelligent- of course she would have many questions.

"Since I-I was really l-little. I b-built it all as I s-saw it… through m-my own eyes," he said, not sure if he should have shared that bit. He didn't see why not.

"Well, it's lovely. You must see very beautiful things," Belle commented, the statement causing a blush to reign over his face. For some reason whenever the word 'beautiful' was used in reference to him, it always threw him off.

"I-I have," he found himself saying beyond his control as he gazed at the beauty below him, circling the table and marveling his work.

Right away, Quasimodo slammed his jaw shut and the blush that was already on his face yet again matched his hair.

What on earth was with him? It was as if he couldn't control a single thing that left his mouth! It was terrible… And yet, beyond anything he could explain.

He didn't want to stop speaking with her.

Luckily it appeared as if she had not caught what he actually meant and instead she peered out through the opening behind his craft table.

"You can see everything from up here. Why, you're almost like their guardian angel looking after all of them down below," she said, her voice playful and light.

Quasimodo almost found himself falling over in surprise at this.

_Him_? An _angel_? How did that even make since in the same sentence?

Belle quickly picked up on his uncomfortable silence and awkwardness.

"Like when you helped me for example."

Quasimodo shook his head even though she could not see it.

"Oh – I-I didn't w-w-want to see you harmed…"

"And you protected me."

"Yes. But I-I-I'm not-"

"I was teasing, Quasimodo," she finally said, realizing that he couldn't catch on and finding that to be a very sad thing.

"Wh-what? Oh…"

She then heard a deep, muffled chuckle and she realized with astonishment that he was laughing. It was a nice sound and one she was sure that had not been heard often in the place. That was going to change soon if she had anything to say about it.

He couldn't quite explain what it was that had caused the laugh to suddenly leave him. Perhaps it was because he finally understood that she was only kidding around with him. Or… maybe it was simply he was so thrilled that she actually _was_ kidding around with him. To know that she felt comfortable and happy enough to do that filled him with joy. That alone put a merry smile on his face.

Other than the gargoyles, he had never really had anyone to laugh with before.

It was nice… so very nice.

Little did he know that below him, Belle was thinking the very same thing. For so long she had been deemed the outcast, the odd one from the others. She never really had anyone to talk to except for her Papa. That wasn't the case now though; for in Quasimodo, Belle had found someone who not only listened to her, but seemed to understand as well. And, if there was something he didn't understand, he asked about it or tried to figure it out for himself. He didn't automatically shut down from her just because he didn't know something… he was like her and tried to figure it out – from what she had observed.

Granted, it would be easier if she could just _see_ him. But, as she had decided before, she would just have to be patient and it would happen on its own. She was sure of it.

No matter how many times she tried to imagine what he looked like, she just couldn't get a clear picture in her head. The only possible reference she could go off of was the little wooden figurine inside the Notre Dame model.

The two had seemed to enter a comfortable silence. It wasn't strained or awkward like a few previous silences had been. It was peaceful. And even though Belle could not see him, she knew he was still there; she could almost feel him watching her. Even though she felt as if she could trust Quasimodo… it still made her feel a little uncomfortable that he could see her but she couldn't him.

That almost didn't seem fair.

A thought suddenly struck her that had not occurred to her before and she was quite surprised that it had not. This master that Quasimodo spoke of… wouldn't he be coming here sometimes to see him? And – wouldn't that mean bad news for her? Belle decided that now would probably be a good time to verbalize this.

"Quasimodo… your master- would he be coming to see you any time soon?" she asked, a little fearful of the answer. She didn't want to have to face that wicked sounding man if she could avoid it.

"He visits s-sometimes, b-but he was just here a c-c-couple days ago and he never comes more than once a m-month… if even that…" His voice faded off then.

Even though Belle did not approve of how his master treated him, it still made her sad that he neglected him so much. She got the feeling that other than him Quasimodo did not see too much of anyone else based off of all he told her. And there was no denying that he loved his master. It was obvious with how highly he spoke of him and how dependent he was on his word against gypsies among other things.

"He would not approve of my living here would he?" she asked, figuring that she already knew the answer.

A brief pause.

"H-he would not be pleased…" he confirmed, dismay in his voice.

Belle felt a bit of concern filter through her. It would be most unfortunate if he were to come here and see her.

"B-but you h-have nothing to fear. H-he won't be around for a l-long while. H-he wouldn't hurt you…" he added as an afterthought.

She could not help but wonder if perhaps Quasimodo had a little more faith in his master than he should. Belle did not want to judge right away though for it went against everything she had just been speaking of. But, this seemed more than just some off quirk… there was something not right with how the man was teaching and raising him.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she said without thinking. Little did she know that she had hit the nail right on the head.

Although she could not see it, Quasimodo lowered his gaze to the floor. Oh he would certainly get hurt. Any time he disobeyed his master, he received a flogging to remember. Said floggings were few and far between, and it had been years since his last one; but Quasimodo remembered each on perfectly and the reasons for why he received them.

"I won't," he said a little more confidently then he felt about it. If he really was fearful of disobeying Master, then he wouldn't even be taking the risk of letting her stay here… but for some reason this just felt right. He was supposed to be doing this. And, he would take the strikes one hundred times over if it meant keep her safe from harm.

These intense feelings of protectiveness were totally foreign to him and he hardly knew what they were – but he was certain what they meant; and for once he was going to act on them.

He could still see that Belle looked concerned. It was almost overwhelming to him that someone actually worried about _him_. She _cared _about what would happen to _him_. No one ever looked like that towards him before. Even though it brought a smile to his face, he did not want to see her look like that.

"Don't worry about me, Belle," he whispered, not stammering at all for once, "I won't let anything bad happen."

The radiant smile that suddenly reached her face was absolutely lovely and filled Quasimodo with a feeling he couldn't comprehend the meaning of at all… but it was one that he liked. It was like the feeling he got just before he rang the first bell in the morning – only better.

Belle couldn't help her smile.

She didn't understand what it was that had caused the look on her face. Perhaps it was Quasimodo's genuine kindness, or maybe the fact that he was speaking more confidentially… or perhaps it was just maybe she liked the way he spoke her name…

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. Where in the world had that come from?

Either way, talking to him made her happy and helped her to forget – if only for a moment – her predicament. It almost made her feel as if she wasn't even trapped.

But, she was.

No matter how she tried to word it in her head, Belle knew that where she was now was no less a prison. She could not leave; she could not see her Papa.

A prison could not be a home.

But… perhaps Quasimodo could make it so.

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><p><strong>AN: Oh goodness... They are just impossibly perfect for each other... Maybe I could have divided this into two separate chapters, but this just all seemed to flow pretty well. I hope you guys liked it! Review please! They make me smile.  
><strong>

**And a bit of shameless advertising. I recently got an account on youtube where I have been posting little amv tributes for Quasimodo. He's such an underrated and overlooked character, I felt as if this was a good way to spread the Quasi love more widely. The account is LesCloches25, feel free to check it out; especially if any of you love Le Bellringer as much as I do. Until next update (: **

**-QuasimodoLeBossu  
><strong>


	9. Face to Face

**A/N: Hey! Early update! **

**So... surprise! Haha.**

**This isn't a normal thing, but I have spent the last three days with no internet and when all there is to do is study and write... yes early updates are definitely expected. I'm also doing this for I am not sure how long it will be until my next one. It's the end of the semester and I will be very busy for the next couple weeks or so. Again, I present you with an extremely long chapter. I hope you all like this, it's definitely one of my favorites so far that I've written (:**

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><p>Chapter – 9<p>

Face to Face

Belle looked up from her book as she heard the chiming begin for the Vespers. Immediately she felt excitement as she realized that she would soon be able to speak with Quasimodo. Based on what he had told her last night, today had been his chore day and he had been very busy spending the whole day polishing the bells, replacing frayed ropes, and ringing a few special masses.

She of course had had no problem with this and even offered her assistance. Though Quasimodo politely, but quite firmly turned her down for reasons she figured she already knew.

It wasn't hard for her to find something to do in such a special place. She had been staying in the Bell Tower for going on five days now and was able to maneuver it pretty well. It was like being in a completely different world and yet Belle almost felt as if she had known about this place all her life. Or rather, she had seen it somewhere in her dreams. Quasimodo had similar visions to her; he had managed to create in reality all that she had imagined in her mind.

They were very similar, her and the bellringer. She was coming to realize this with the more time she spent with him. This was something that she was very happy for; she had never had a friend that viewed things so similarly to her before. It was very refreshing and special.

Friend.

By now she would have liked to call Quasimodo her friend, though she was still unsure if he trusted her. A big part of friendship was being able to trust and considering he hadn't let her look at him yet, Belle couldn't help but wonder…

True there was something she hadn't shared with him yet either, but she figured he knew. She hadn't really brought up the fact that she read. He obviously had to know though being as how he had found her book in the folds of her apron when she had been unconscious. Belle could not decide if it was a good thing or not that he had yet to say anything about it, or even if he was waiting for her to speak of it.

She couldn't say for certain why she hadn't. Maybe it was because she was afraid once more of getting chided for being a woman who read – though that was highly doubtful considering Quasimodo was perhaps the kindest person she had ever met and would never judge someone.

If that wasn't it… then why had she not yet brought it up?

Belle realized then that she was reluctant to possibly discover that yet again there was another who could not read and therefore could not understand. Now, she didn't know for sure if Quasimodo could read or not, but taking into consideration that he had spent all his life locked away with a cruel man who not only refused to be addressed to as father, but also heavily sheltered him… the ability to read did not seem all that likely. She also couldn't find any books anywhere other than a copy of the bible. Belle had a feeling though that if he were unable to read, he would still maybe try to understand to the best of his abilities because that was just who he was.

It couldn't hurt to share this special part of her with him though. Especially being as how she was going to be living here for quite some time until she could figure out what to do about her situation. Her heart ached for her Papa and she worried dearly for him as she did for Philippe. If in fact her father had been arrested as she almost had been… then, once his food and water ran out- there was no one to care for the poor horse.

With great difficulty, Belle tried to force her mind back to her previous thoughts of sharing the fact that she read with Quasimodo. An idea suddenly came to her then.

She would share with him her love for reading when he shared with her what he looked like.

It seemed like a perfect compromise to her!

Besides, she really was getting anxious to see him for who he truly was. Though Belle didn't like to admit it, she often found herself dreaming of what he might possibly look like while she slept at night.

Because he was able to ring the bells, he had to be extremely strong, yet Belle could not picture him with obnoxious, bulging muscles like that rude and conceited man back in her village that she often tried very hard not to think about. Gaston. Even though he was incredibly good looking, his heart was black and his intentions were unjust. He had always been so determined to 'woo' her and earn her as his. But, Belle could see past his charming façade. He not only made fun of her, but her Papa as well and that was crossing a very big line. It was men like him that often made her feel distant from regular society – they all believed that a woman's rightful place was in the house, cooking the meals, doing the chores, and raising the children.

Even though Belle did not mind that idea of doing those things too much… she did not want to live that way all her life. And, she certainly was not going to live it with Gaston. She wanted so much more than that. But he didn't matter right now, for she was currently thinking about the mysterious man who had been captivating her mind for several days now.

In her dreams, she envisioned him to have obvious strength on him. His face was hazy, but she imagined his eyes – though they changed color frequently – to tell a story. Belle just knew that his eyes would hold so many things. For someone to see all that they had in such a sad living condition… there was no doubt. With how soft Quasimodo's voice was, she couldn't imagine him to be very tall – taller than her of course… but still she could not picture too much height on him.

That was all she could imagine clearly, everything else was a blur. She could not see his face very well no matter how hard she tried. But, it made sense being as how she never had actually seen it.

Belle knew she had told herself that she would wait until he was ready to show her himself, but after five days she was beginning to wonder if he ever would.

As the bells continued tolling, Belle decided that she would start to head up to where Quasimodo had his craft table set up. This was her favorite place to speak with him in all the Bell Tower and he had grown used to finding her up there.

And besides, she had spent a majority of the day in her room reading her book and creating a new ribbon out of spare cloth that she could tie her hair back with; she had grown tired of it always falling in her eyes constantly.

It was definitely time to start moving again.

She stood from the mat and stretched, her muscles almost groaning in satisfaction. It was true; she was beginning to get a little stir crazy. The outside world was so beautiful and full of life and adventure and here she was – locked in a tower like one of the damsels in the stories she read. Belle knew for certain that if she did not have Quasimodo to talk to and her book to read, she would probably have foolishly tried to escape by now. That would only end badly.

When she began to walk, Belle noticed how her ankle barely hurt anymore. She was practically fully recovered. This knowledge alone was enough to give her some hope that everything would end up okay and how it should be. Sure the future was foggy now – only gypsies knew what was in store – but she just knew that fate was on her side as was God. He had brought her protection when she had needed it, He had brought her shelter, and… He had guided her to a friend.

Belle's eyes brightened the minute the sight of the colorful, unique room of wood, stone, and light all tinted with luscious hues of orange and purple due to the setting sun came into view.

The floor beneath her vibrated slightly at the extraordinary tones of the bells. It was so much louder more up here than it was down in the room where she slept, but Belle had grown used to it.

The minute the ringing started to fade, she squinted her eyes to see if she could catch sight of Quasimodo swinging and winding his form about the bells, but she saw nothing.

In fact… once the bells stilled, it had grown very silent. Not even the sound of his footsteps squeaking the floorboards on the platform above her could be heard.

"Quasimodo?" she questioned the quiet air.

There was no response.

Belle did not find herself getting too concerned by this due to the fact that just yesterday he had told her that he was a little hard of hearing because of the loud tones of the bells. Perhaps he had simply not heard her.

After waiting a few minutes more with still no sounds other than the occasional noise far below in the streets, Belle decided that he was probably still busy with something. She decided to just try back later.

She was just about to turn and head back down the ladder when a sound that she had heard before stopped her in her tracks and stilled her heart.

It was quiet, but still very prominent. Someone was singing and its haunting sound wasn't anything short of angelic.

It was coming from the platform higher up. Was… was it Quasimodo? Surely not…

Belle found herself drifting a little closer to the platform. She quickly recognized the song as a Latin hymn sung in mass. Though she had never heard it sung with such longing and hope before. And she had never heard it sung by such a lovely voice.

Almost as if hypnotized, she was soon slowly climbing the ladder to the platform that lead to where all the bells were.

When she reached the top, she almost gasped. There were so many! She had never even guessed that all these bells resided up here. No wonder it had taken Quasimodo all day to care for them!

Belle did not dwell on these thoughts for too long however for the singing had her complete attention and she was determined to find the source of its moving sound. The rational part of her told her that she was certainly intruding coming all the way up here, but she told herself that Quasimodo had never forbidden her from exploring wherever she liked. _Ma maison c'est ta maison, _had been exactly what he had told her. And Belle decided she would not question it.

The beautiful music was coming to the left of her and she continued in its direction. As she kept going, the sight of a giant bell was suddenly right in front of her. Belle had to tilt her head back quite a bit in order to be able to see the entire thing. What a glorious, powerful instrument! Belle almost felt the need to fall to her knees before it.

With the singing still filling the large room with its pure sound her eyes first took in the ancient argent high above and then they soon fell to the crown, followed by the shoulders. She continued to lower her gaze over the bell's entire body until she reached the very bottom of it

Belle froze up when she realized that on the other side of the lip, she could see a pair of feet and crooked legs. The way the legs didn't match up right was troubling to her and she couldn't tell if it was just the way the person was standing or if they were naturally shaped like that. She furrowed her brow and looked harder.

It was then she realized that Quasimodo was on the other side of the bell and was still unaware of her presence.

He continued singing on without a care in the world as he polished the last of the bells.

The more he sang, the more Belle wanted to sing with him, finding that she knew the hymn rather well. Unable to contain herself any longer, her voice soon joined his, their haunting and harmonic music filling the normally solemn Bell Tower with the glory of their resonating sound.

It did not last long though unfortunately for only a few seconds after Belle began to sing, Quasimodo completely froze up and stopped. Without waiting a second longer, he dropped the polish and the rag and turned to flee to the second nearest bell behind him and ducked underneath it; the only thing visible being his feet partially hidden by shadow.

"Wait!" Belle cried, slowly coming around the other side of the bigger bell.

When she saw where he had gone, she would have laughed at the sight of his feet sticking out from beneath the other bell if it weren't for the fact she felt quite terrible for startling him like that.

Despite her cry for him to wait, Quasimodo did not move.

From what Belle could see of his legs, it wasn't hard to tell that his trembling knees were knocking together.

Belle stood there for a very long time, feeling a mixture of grief and determination. She felt absolutely awful that she had cornered him like this, but she also felt that there would be no better time than this moment to be able to finally meet him the way she should have long ago.

There was nothing but silence. And, it wasn't even a pleasant one. It was the kind that roared in her ears like an invisible demon, picking at her… jabbing.

Clenching her fists, Belle looked away from where the terrified bellringer hid obviously just as much at a loss on what to do as she was.

Finally… she spoke.

"Please…" she whispered, "please let me meet you."

An audible tormented sigh was heard emitting from the bell he hid under.

"Belle… I-I can't. You don't understand…"

"I won't until you let me try to," she said, wanting to know, wanting to understand.

"I-I-I want to…" he said, his voice just above a whisper, "I-I want to, b-but…" It was plain to hear how badly he was shaking just by the way his voice even quivered.

Belle could not understand how he could possibly be so scared. She wanted to understand! She wanted to help – it was awful hearing him like that. Belle never wanted to hear him like that again.

"You are my friend, Quasimodo…" she said in the most soothing and reassuring voice that she could. It seemed important that he knew that. Belle knew that she had not said this to him before and if there was any hope… this would be it.

Quasimodo did not think he had heard her right. Friend?

Friend…

_She_ was _his_ friend. _He_ was _her_ friend.

Like the gargoyles. The bells.

Only better. So much more than that.

So much better…

If… if she was his friend then she would not run. She would accept him. That's what friends did. But... would she change her mind once she saw him?

Oh what a gamble it was!

Quasimodo squeezed his eyes shut. It all came down to one choice. And… he knew, he just knew that this choice would forever affect the course of his life no matter which way he chose to go. Frantically he wrung his hands together.

If he showed her… he risked losing her by his ugliness.

If he didn't show her… he risked losing her by rejecting her friendship.

Either way held a possibility of losing her, and even though she had only been in his life for a short while… she had given him such hope, such happiness. He would never be the same if she fled.

Oh…

He opened his eyes.

Belle took a small and hesitant step forward.

He did not move.

She took another step.

Still no movement.

Her elegant, swan-like shadow was creeping ever closer to him.

Before he knew it, he could see her tiny feet from outside the bell.

Quasimodo held his breath. It was now or never.

Exhaling, he gently grasped the bottom of the bell and very slowly raised it towards his fate.

Belle remained rooted to the spot, her limbs seizing and her heart speeding up as she realized that he was lifting the bell.

This was it…

Massive, giant hands appeared at the lip as the bell lifted and shadow was slowly exposed…

Following his large feet and crooked knees were muscular, stocky legs.

The bell kept rising.

The light then hit a stooped and tucked torso and large, bold elbows. Belle could tell already that he was shaped funny, but she did not move. Her eyes were completely fixed.

Still, the bell kept rising.

Soon, the light exposed his neck (or lack thereof) and strong chin, but it was there that the bell haulted for a moment, hesitation strong within him. His arms shook fiercely and it was unknown if it was due to the weight of the bell or the weight of his fear crushing down on him.

Finally… finally the bell was lifted completely up and over his form and her eyes widened as the unknown, mysterious face that had haunted her dreams for several days now was truly made real.

His sights remained on the floor, arms resting limply at his sides after he had released his hold on the bell behind him.

He did not want to look into her eyes and see his shame.

He could hear her hitch in a breath and he fought the urge to run.

The intensity of her stare burned him, seared him. Quasimodo feared at any moment he would be reduced to nothing more than ash.

It was unknown to him how long he stood there, completely exposed, but it seemed to last forever and a day. He had not stopped looking at the floor and he didn't plan to. She had not run yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time – she was simply frozen in fear… it was the only thing that seemed accurate.

Quasimodo nearly jumped out of his skin when suddenly… he heard her voice.

"D-does… does it hurt?" The innocent question drifted through the air like a lullaby.

He could not help but bring his eyes up to meet hers. There was fear as he expected… but also something else. Something he did not recognize.

What did she mean 'did it hurt'?

Did it hurt him to be this ugly?

Belle sensed his confusion it seemed and after swallowing hard, she spoke once more.

"I mean your… your…"

Ah! His misshapen, twisted, and crooked form.

Yes, it did hurt. But only sometimes.

"N-no…" he began, "only if it h-hurts you to see it…"

His hideousness. His sin. His shame. His cross.

His eyes dropped back to the floor and he lowered his head.

To his complete and utter astonishment, he felt a cool and unbelievably soft hand gently touch his cheek and tilt his face back up.

Her eyes were still wide… but there was no fear in them as they poured over his face.

"It doesn't," she said with a little smile.

It was indescribable, the waves of emotion that suddenly washed over him. The tide, restless and wild carried him out to sea. The sea of hope and promise. She… she _saw_ him. She _wasn't_ running. She was _here_. Belle was right _here_.

Hunchbacked. One-eyed. Lame. To her, it didn't matter

As she pulled her hand away then from his face, Quasimodo fought the overwhelming urge to suddenly catch it, grasp it in his own and place a humble kiss of gratitude there. But he refrained.

Instead, he found himself falling to his knees before her as a heavy burden was suddenly lifted from his heart and the weight of all this emotion proved to be too much to keep him standing. For the first time in his life, the pressure of his shame left his chest and he felt a rainfall of relief wash all the burning doubt away.

It took a lot of her will power not to back up several steps when he suddenly fell to his knees. It had been unexpected and she was still quite a bit on edge.

Everything made sense now. All of it…

The fact that he had to stay up here for his own protection. Why he was so shy. Why he had not wanted her to see him…

It was true, the first few moments of when she had laid eyes on him had put her in a bit of a shock.

He was unlike anything she had ever seen before… or imagined. He was roughly her height if not a half an inch shorter, but it was only because his form was pathetically stooped over by an unfortunate raise in his vertebra, leaving him with hardly any neck at all, his great head cradled between his hunched shoulders. Just like some of the statues, he appeared to have been shattered and then wrongly put back together again. A mismatched puzzle of the human body.

That wasn't even the worst part of it…

His face… oh his face.

It wasn't the fact that he was so hideous that pulled painfully at her heart. In fact, she saw right through it. It was his eyes. They held so much fear, so much pain. Belle had never seen anything like it before. The tormented intensity… the sleeping wisdom. All of it swarmed around in the color of dark cyan and moss green. His eyes were the color of the ocean after a storm, all stirred up and wild… yet vibrant and shimmering due to the sun just coming out. Unlike so many people... they were open windows to his heart, his soul. He had held her gaze for only a moment, but it was long enough for a connection to form. A connection she had been waiting for for a very long time.

Was she frightened? No.

Had she been alarmed? Certainly.

Did it make her think any less of him…? Definitely not.

Belle was not afraid of him as he had thought her to be. She did not feel disgust or hate. Only overwhelming pity filled her heart and a desire to erase the dark pain in his eyes and replace it with happiness he had for so long been deprived of.

Touching him had not been as hard as she thought it would. For even though he looked alarmingly different… His eyes and his expressions were striking and undeniably human.

It broke her heart to see him on his knees in front of her now. This wasn't right. He wasn't meant to be stooped below her like a slave… he was meant to stand beside her as her equal. Belle didn't care what his master said. He had helped her, saved her and she wasn't going to let some petty thing such as his appearance get in the way of the appreciation she felt and the friendship she still wanted with him.

Without any hesitation, she knelt down as well and placed her hand on his forearm.

Belle was not expecting the obvious flinch and jump of surprise he gave from her touch and she almost pulled her hand guiltily back, but decided against it. Quasimodo was simply not used to being touched.

After giving him a couple seconds to compose himself, Belle gently tugged on his arm in an attempt to pull him to his feet. The boy obeyed her soft pressure without even thinking about it, clumsily getting himself into a standing position. His awkward knees made it hard to do so seamlessly, but he managed all right.

Still he refused to meet her gaze.

That was going to have to change.

"Quasimodo… please look at me," she said, trying to coax him into feeling more comfortable. But the poor hunchback had never revealed himself to anyone before. This was a big change for him and would take a while to adjust.

Very slowly, he raised his eyes to hers again and this time he held her gaze.

He longed to say something, anything to her, but his lips were numb and it almost felt as if he no longer had a voice. She wasn't the only one who had been shocked.

Belle continued to smile at him in support and held out her hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she said.

Quasimodo looked at her hand for a moment as if unsure of what to do with it.

Slowly and cautiously, as if he was afraid of her dissolving away in a dream, he reached out and took her hand. Even though her skin was cool to the touch, it was like a sudden wave of heat rippled up his arm at rapid speeds and struck his heart, sending it beating just as it had when he had first held her to him after he rescued her.

Feeling as if it would be wrong to touch her for too long, Quasimodo reluctantly dropped the hold he had on her so very soft hand and let his arms rest at his sides again.

"You're… y-you're not afraid?" he finally was able to say.

Belle shook her head.

"Afraid of what?" she asked, with slightest hint of a teasing tone in her voice.

He could not help the small, shy smile that graced his features as she made it obvious that his appearance didn't matter to her. Though he couldn't guess for the life of him how that could be.

The look he had given her was almost enough to make her want to just throw her arms around him and squeeze him. His master was so very wrong when he told him that he wouldn't be accepted. Quasimodo was far too kind... Though she could understand that first impressions were against him. If no one knew how gentle he was, then it would make sense why they would be fearful. Belle however was not afraid. The odd and the different appealed to her.

"It seems quite rude for someone to be afraid of their own friend, doesn't it?" Belle teased once more, trying to make the situation even lighter for him.

Quasimodo chuckled softly at this; not so much because it was funny but because he was just filled with an unbelievable happiness that he had a real, true friend for once. A friend who, by some miracle, _wasn't_ afraid of him.

It just made everything else not matter as much anymore. His fear of her seeing him… his worry of hurting her… It was all gone. In its place was hope.

He… he wanted to do something for her. Anything. He glanced past her and towards the opening in the tower where the beautiful sunlight was leaking in as it set.

An idea hit him.

"Would you like t-t-to see something beautiful?" he asked.

Belle's eyes lit up at this and she grinned at him in excitement. He wanted to share something with her!

"Absolutely," she said, watching his own eyes light up and shimmer again.

"All right… f-f-follow me," he said, gesturing as such with his arm.

He then set off with his hobbling gait, Belle close behind him. She tried not to pay attention to how much his deformities challenged his ability to walk; it just made her feel bitter towards God for making him so wrong. Trying not to dwell on such a thing, she directed her focus on the bells all around her that she passed. Again she was amazed by their vastness and their amount. Belle made a mental note to ask Quasimodo more about them later on.

When they rounded the corner of yet another rather large bell, the sight of a long ladder leading up to a rectangular opening in the wooden ceiling where light from the outside pooled in came into view. Belle's eyes sparked in anticipation as she thought of what could possibly be up there.

The bellringer climbed up the ladder with ease and she was soon to follow. When he reached the top he turned and, with a few seconds of deliberation, held out his hand to help her the rest of the way up.

Smiling at this, she took his hand and allowed him to guide her to the top. She marveled at how massive his hand was in comparison to hers, it enveloped her small digits completely. If she were to try it, she would just barely be able to hold simply his thumb in her entire palm. His hand was rough and calloused, but warm and gentle as it carefully held her own.

Even when she was up from the ladder, she did not drop her hold for reasons she wasn't sure. Quasimodo looked over his shoulder at what waited for them outside and then turned back to her.

"C-c-can you trust me?" he asked softly, holding her gaze for as long as he could even though it made him feel uncomfortable.

Belle nodded her head.

"I can and I do," she said, giving his large hand a squeeze.

Quasimodo tried his hardest not to allow his body to tremble.

"Close your eyes…" He whispered.

Giving him a rather curious look, Belle did as he told her, applying a bit more pressure to his hand with hers seeing as how that was now her only guide.

Being blind opened her other senses and as he gently pulled her out into the open of wherever it was that they were at, Belle felt as if she could suddenly feel and hear everything.

She could feel that the late summer air had faint chilling hints of the approaching autumn in it as it blew past, rustling her hair and pulling a few strands from her ribbon. She could feel the last rays of the setting sun warm her face. And, she could feel Quasimodo's heartbreakingly gentle hand guiding her.

Belle could hear the wind whistling through the tower, creating a quiet, but prominent moaning sound. She could hear the people below going about their evening business before suppers. And, she could hear her heart beat pounding in her ears.

Quasimodo continued to pull her along until they stopped quite suddenly.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly. Belle nodded her head.

Reluctantly, he dropped the hold he had on her hand.

"Open your eyes."

Belle savored the moment of anticipation before once again doing as he asked.

What she saw… for a moment, caused her to lose her breath.

If a few days ago, someone had told her that there was something more beautiful than the rolling hills of her farm outside of Versailles, she wouldn't have believed them… until now.

Before her eyes was a place that was surely not far off from what the Kingdom of Heaven would look like. The sky was fuchsias, honey, mangoes, and wildfire. An oil pastel painting of the glory of nature. Only… it wasn't a painting, it was the real sunset as she had never seen it before – atop Notre Dame's South Tower. Belle found herself leaning further over the stone wall, completely mesmerized.

Both hunchback and girl remained silent, the two of them soaking up the natural beauty that everyone else below them hardly noticed as they went about their lives.

Belle found herself peeking out of the corner of her eyes at Quasimodo. The boy had a serene smile on his face as he stared off into the loveliness before him. She found she rather liked the way the sun hit his vibrant, auburn hair, making it appear as if it was slowly dancing flames. Truly, he wasn't as hideous as he thought himself to be and now that she could actually see him… it was hard for her to stop looking at him, memorizing everything that she had been deprived of for so long. Suddenly he turned his eyes in her direction and Belle abruptly averted her gaze towards the view in front of them again- not wanting to make him uncomfortable with her staring; she didn't see the endearing smile that suddenly stretched his lopsided face as he looked at her.

They stayed that way for a long time and it was only when the first set of stars started to appear that Belle finally turned to look at her friend and broke the silence.

"This is… wonderful," she said, her voice breathy with awe that had still not worn off.

Quasimodo's eyes grew soft at this and he suddenly jumped onto the stone wall, sitting on the ledge.

"This is my favorite time of both day and night," he said.

"I can see why… I've never seen anything so beautiful in all my life…" Belle said.

_I have…_ Quasimodo thought to himself as he gazed at how the woman beside him closed her eyes and let the wind caress her face and rustle her hair.

When Belle opened her eyes again, she finally seemed to realize just how close to the edge Quasimodo was sitting and her eyes widened.

"Be careful…" she suddenly warned.

Quasimodo could only look at her in confusion. What was she talking about? Looking over his shoulder and at the far drop below, he realized then that she didn't know just how well he could maneuver himself around this place… His eyes sparked mischievously as he realized that now it was his turn to tease her. He didn't know what led him to feel this way, perhaps the joy of the moment… the knowledge that he actually _had_ a friend to tease with.

"C-Careful? Of what? This?" he asked before suddenly letting himself fall backwards over the ledge. Just as his body started to drop, he grasped the gargoyle head not too far below him.

"Don't!" he heard Belle scream from above. Sure enough, her face appeared from the over the ledge, peering down at him simply dangling there.

Chuckling softly, Quasimodo swung his powerful form back up to the stone ledge. Once he was back on solid ground he turned to face Belle, a goofy, playful grin on his face.

Belle did not look nearly as amused.

"You scared me to death!" she cried, swatting his shoulder gently.

Immediately Quasimodo felt a little bit of guilt reach him… but he also still could not deny how funny it was.

"I-I'm sorry," he said, humbly bowing his head. For some reason, it filled him with warmth to know that she cared that much for him.

She patted his hand for a moment, not wishing for him to be guilty.

"It's all right… I just wasn't expecting it," she said, her tone much softer now that she had stopped to think about it. Of course he would be able to go wherever he wished on this place…

Once Belle regained composure, she looked from him to the ledge and the distance to the ground from there.

"You… you can climb this?" she asked. What _couldn't_ he do? Well there was the obvious… but it wasn't important.

"Oh yes! Everywhere. See?" he said, leaping back on the ledge again. He was just about to jump over once more until Belle suddenly rushed forward and caught his hand.

"No!" she cried. Yet shortly after she said this, she looked over her shoulder at the ground she stood on and then back at Quasimodo and the promise of an exciting adventure, a chance to experience something she had never known before. Maybe… possibly…Belle could not believe the thought that suddenly filled her and tried to shake it off, but found herself saying it aloud before she could crush it. "Take me with you…"

Quasimodo laughed out loud at her sudden change of mind.

"You sure?" he asked, not wanting to frighten her.

Belle eyed the ground hundreds of feet below her skeptically, but then she saw the warm, strong, protective arms of Quasimodo and knew that she would be safe

"Hurry before I change my mind again…"

Smiling broadly, he tugged on her hand, pulling her up on the ledge with him. With just a second's hesitation, he reached out and scooped her up with one arm and hoisted her onto his unfortunate back. With the same arm he had used to pick her up, he reached behind him and firmly, but not too tightly pressed her legs to his back to keep her safely perched. Without being told to, Belle wrapped her arms around what little neck he had and seated herself comfortably over the arm that held her where she was.

"Ready?" he asked.

Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she decided one more time if this way a good idea or not, Belle snapped them open again with a determined light. What did she have to lose!

"Let's go," she said.

She was not expecting what happened next when suddenly… they were no longer on solid ground. In fact… she saw nothing but rapid, blurred colors shooting upwards as they fell through the air.

Before she could even gasp, Quasimodo had clutched onto a gargoyle neck with his free hand. They hung there for a few seconds as he got himself situated. As they swung back and forth a little, Belle found herself face to face with the ugly grimacing stone thing he was hanging on. Unable to stop herself, she made a face right back at it. Quasimodo looked over his shoulder at her just in time to see this and burst out in laughter.

Belle realized then with chagrin that she had seen her childish action, but couldn't help but giggle as well. With strength that she was only just beginning to grasp the concept of, Quasimodo swung himself on top of the gargoyle he had been holding onto and was standing on it.

To her amazement and terror, he started hopping across the path of the gargoyle necks before them as if he were some great frog jumping from lily pad to lily pad in the pond behind her cottage. Even though he was obviously well balanced, she couldn't help but wonder what he would do once their little gargoyle trail ran out.

She soon found out as when they reached the end, he dropped once more. Belle gasped and tightened her hold on his neck, burying her face in his good shoulder. Quasimodo couldn't help but smile at this. If he weren't so focused on supporting his precious cargo, he would have surely trembled at the contact.

They fell through the air for several feet until he grasped yet another stone ledge and then pulled them both over onto solid ground. Belle lifted her head. They were suddenly on the long, narrow walkway between the two bell towers.

Belle heard fluttering from somewhere above her and looked up just in time to see a flock of birds fly past. She studied them and their wings against the wind.

A wild idea suddenly struck her…

Quasimodo started running then, this time towards the back of the cathedral. Scaling the stone ledge, he was soon on the gigantic, long rooftop of the very sanctuary itself. As she looked around, statues of saints and gargoyles alike blurred past her. Deciding to try out her idea, Belle slowly released her hold on the bellringer's neck and found herself sitting up higher from her perch on his shoulder.

_I am absolutely insane… _she thought to herself before opening her arms wide like a bird spreading its wings to take flight.

The rush of impact was incredible.

This sensation – it was amazing! The wind rushed through her, caressed her as Quasimodo continued to run on the roof top. Belle closed her eyes and tilted her head upward

Everything faded away then. For one, fleeting moment she was free. Not just from this stone prison but from life itself. She was a cloud in the sky, a dolphin leaping in the waves of the sea, a butterfly fluttering in a meadow, an eagle circling the mountains. She was a carefree young woman without fear and without burden. Belle opened her eyes and laughed again, clutching on to her friend once more.

Quasimodo didn't know what exactly it had been that had caused her to laugh, but it made him smile to hear that she sounded... happy.

When he reached the towering steeple, he did not slow his paces at all and instead, bounded on to it.

With much leg strength, he used his one arm to climb to the very top. Belle felt as if she were high up in heaven. She could see everything from here! All of Paris was tinted blue, bathed in the full moonlight and the Seine sparkled and glowed with the reflection of a thousand stars.

He hung there for a few minutes, letting Belle marvel at everything and giving her a bit of a break. Quasimodo wanted to say something, anything – but silence seemed the most appropriate thing right now. Even with the wind blowing quite fiercely from up where they were, it was very quiet and all was calm.

The surrounding area went on for miles and miles, Belle almost wondered if on a clear day she could see traces of some of the farmland that lead into Versailles.

Neither felt the need to talk. They let their silence speak for them. Belle knew then and there that she had made the right choice in experiencing this with him. It just made him seem even more human to her; that he could experience these things, feel the same things, and love the same things.

She tore her eyes from the lovely view and instead found herself staring at the top of Quasimodo's huge, malformed head. Yet again she was captivated by his fire hair and the way it danced in the wind.

Was it normal for her to be unafraid of him and only see the things that made him lovely such as his hands, his eyes, his hair? If it wasn't, then she did not care. Since when had she ever followed the norm? She had a friend now, a friend who was very kind. That was all that mattered

After a minute or two, Quasimodo began to slowly descend.

When he finally reached there, Belle almost screamed when he started running _down the_ slanting roof.

As they reached the stone ledge at the base of the roof, he hopped on to the top of it and then onto a long, stone gutter filled with running water.

They were sliding!

Water sprayed up all around them as they slid and Quasimodo could not help but laugh at the sheer thrill of it all; Belle too had a large smile on her face. The water ride seemed to go on for miles, but they both enjoyed every moment of it. Just as they reached the end, Quasimodo grasped the pillar on the side and perched himself onto the gargoyle spouting the water for a moment before dropping below it.

With a lot more swings and jumps, they were back on the front side of Notre Dame again. Swinging from statue to statue, Quasimodo finally landed on the stone parapet in front of the celestial Rose window. He remained still this time to catch his breath. Carefully as possible, he lowered Belle to the ground.

Her legs had grown numb from having not used them in several minutes and the moment they were planted on the stone floor, they wobbled and she found herself beginning to fall over. As if by instinct, Quasimodo reached out and caught her hand, stilling her flailing body.

Belle held tightly onto his hand as she regained composure and when he went to eventually pull it away, she continued to grasp on to it. All that she had just experienced had been so overwhelming in so many different ways… she needed to be able to grasp onto something familiar and comforting.

Quasimodo could not understand this, but allowed her to hold on to his hand with a hidden joy in his heart.

"I didn't scare you did I?" he found himself asking, concern swimming in his turquoise eyes.

Belle shook her head and smiled.

"Not at all. I'm just… so in awe. I've never done anything like that before…" she explained.

Quasimodo tilted his head.

"You c-can't do much with just a barn…" he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Even though he had been serious, for some reason Belle laughed at this, trying to picture herself climbing around the barn on her farm like Quasimodo had just climbed the cathedral. The visual was not a pretty one.

Again, he didn't know why she laughed, but found he liked the sound and smiled anyways. It reminded him of the tinkling chimes he rang.

"Did you like it?" he finally asked. He had just shared a big part of his world with her… he couldn't help but be eager to know how she felt about it.

Belle grinned at him before pushing a stray piece hair from her face.

"No," she said.

Before the smile could even disappear from his face, she spoke again.

"I absolutely _loved_ it." She would have never imagined his crooked and awkward shape could be so flexible and acrobatic.

Quasimodo's whole face seemed to light up at this and for a moment… _just a moment_, he was handsome underneath the moon's rays.

Belle turned from him and looked up at the beautiful Rose window behind her. She could now see every picture clearly and how they told a story. It almost made her want to fall to her knees in prayer.

"It's beautiful," she said, dropping her hold on his hand and walking towards the ledge. "Your world is beautiful…"

"You make it beautiful…" Quasimodo whispered almost inaudibly, thankful that she was busy gazing out at the moon over the Seine and not really listening closely to him.

This whole thing seemed too good to be true. He had shown her his face, the truth that he was a monster… and she had not run. She had stayed. She had smiled at him. She had _touched_ him.

Was she a dream? Was she an angel?

Even though he could hardly believe it… this was real. This was not a dream. She had fallen into his life and, by the looks of it, she was here to stay for quite a while.

"Belle?" he began, finding he could not hold in this next question.

The beauty turned to look at him.

Quasimodo pressed his lips firmly together and lowered his gaze. No… it was a foolish question and one he was almost afraid to know the answer to.

"What is it?" she inquired.

Taking a breath, he looked back into her eyes.

"C-c-can you really be f-friends with a monster?" he asked finally.

At this, her hazel eyes widened significantly.

Monster? _Monster_?

"Quasimodo… you are _not_ a monster," she said firmly.

"Let's not fool ourselves, l-look at me," he said in a practical tone. His master had told him this countless times. This was something he was completely certain of.

Belle was surprised to hear him actually tell her to look at him. Since she had first laid eyes on him earlier that evening, he had almost seemed determined for her not to ever meet his gaze.

But, she did as he requested and really looked at him.

With how close she was and how focused, Quasimodo could see himself reflected in her large eyes and he almost covered his face again. But… he didn't. He had asked for this.

"I see no monster," she said, "I see a man. A man afraid of who he is. But, a man who has a beautiful mind and incredible talents that he could show the world should he ever find the courage to break out of his shell…"

At this, tears filled his eyes and Quasimodo turned away from her unable to conceive what it was that she had just told him. A man… he was a man.

Closing his eyes he sighed, whether in relief or pain it was unknown to Belle and she reached out then and placed her hand on his shoulder. Just as he had earlier, he jumped a bit at her touch, but accepted it none the less.

She was always building him up it seemed… Now that she was here, he couldn't imagine a life without her.

"You are so very kind…" he murmured, hesitantly reaching over and placing his hand over hers that was on his shoulder.

Belle smiled but said nothing at first. Instead, she just looked at him as he looked at her.

"Do you want to know why I'm not afraid of you?" she asked then, seeing the question swimming in his restless ocean eyes.

Quasimodo nodded his head.

"I got to know you. I learned about you. And, I realized someone who is as kind as you, who saved my life, selflessly gave up his room, and took care of me when I was weak could not possibly be a monster no matter how they looked… You are right. You're not normal, but I like you for that," she explained.

His eyes glazed over in deep thought as he processed all of this. Things were very slowly beginning to fit together for him. It wasn't much, things were still foggy, and there was still a lot that he didn't understand… but it was a start; he was on his way.

The two remained in a comfortable silence after that, just staring off at the pearly moon and the glory she held over the city.

The moon rose higher and higher in the sky, but still they did not move – too much enjoying the company of the other.

He did not know at all how much time had passed, but he was suddenly forced back into reality when Belle quite suddenly leaned against him. He jerked his head towards her in alarm. It was only when he saw how heavy her eyes were that he realized she must be getting tired. Quasimodo smiled.

"Are you ready to go back up, Belle?" he asked.

Only a small sound left her as she closed her eyes and pressed her head to his shoulder. He let her stay like that for a little while longer and before he knew it… she was completely asleep.

A small chuckle leaving him, Quasimodo backed up so that she slid neatly into his arms. He cradled her there for a moment. Belle's eyes opened for a second as she was jostled by the new position she was put in, but she quickly turned her head towards his chest and was out again.

That same overwhelming feeling and instinct of protectiveness filled his pounding heart again as he watched the sleeping angel in his arms. He would never tell her this, but she just looked so fragile and helpless in her sleep; and he wanted nothing more than to shield her from everything that was a threat to her.

He did not want to disturb her with his risky jumping and climbing and so instead decided to take the long way up via the secret passage staircase that only he knew about that was on this parapet.

It led directly up to the South Tower where his kingdom of bells was.

Quasimodo walked all the way to the very end of the parapet. He shifted his hold on her for a moment to push aside the stone door that revealed the hidden staircase. Closing it behind him, he began the long ascent up the stairs.

Eventually he found himself back in his tower. Belle had not stirred once in his arms and he almost laughed again at how deep of a sleeper she was.

Just as he had the first night he brought her here, he carried her to his room dimly lit by the dying candle. As carefully as humanly possible, he set her upon his mat and pulled the wool covers over her form. He simply stood by then and gazed at her, all that had transpired today swirling around in his head.

This woman… this incredible, miraculous woman was changing his life before his very eyes. Even though he had only known her for a certain amount of days now, she had been brought to him for a reason and, in God's hands anything was possible.

_Anything was possible._

Beyond any control of his, he reached out and tucked that stray strand of hair that so often appeared in her face behind her ear. In her sleep, Belle smiled and snuggled closer into her pillow.

It was as if all that he had known had stopped around him and held him there in that moment. Even though he had seen, it was all blindness until now; even though he could feel, it had been numb until now… and even though he had lived, he had been dead until now.

What… what was this?

Quasimodo stood there a moment longer and then slowly began to back up. Once he was out of the room, he closed the curtains and turned to climb up the ladder to his craft table.

Sitting at his model town, he picked up a small, rectangular block of wood and began whittling away at it with his little carving knife.

As he worked, he mused then on the events of the day and what on earth it was that he had felt back there in his room. The way she had smiled…

It was unlike anything he had ever seen, ever known.

The feeling was sweet as honey and soft as feathers; warm like the sun and shocking as a jolt of lightening. The lightening was in his eyes now as clarity very slowly came.

It was in then and there that he began to understand. Not very clearly, but it was enough.

The bellringer was falling in love.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Aww. Dear little Quasi. Wow this was a lot of fun to write and turned out quite long. Sorry about that for those who prefer short chapters... Anyways, I hope you guys all enjoyed this one - please let me know what you think.  
><strong>

**FUN TRIVIA: Belle and Quasimodo were both animated by the same person! James Baxter. He also animated Rafiki, but still... I just thought that was the coolest thing and in case you didn't already know, I wanted to share =D**

**Have a great rest of the week everyone.  
><strong>

**-QuasimodoLeBossu  
><strong>


	10. Bells and Roses

Chapter – 10

Bells and Roses

"I don't know how it happened… it just did," Quasimodo whispered to his gargoyle companion, explaining all that had occurred within the past week. It was about midmorning and Belle was below him somewhere. With his new found alone time, the hunchback decided to speak with his old friends, considering it had been a while sense he had done so and he was certain they were interested to learn more about the change of situations.

Oh he knew that the gargoyles saw everything. But, they were his friends and of course they would want to know his own thoughts on the events. And, he really needed to speak with someone about what it was that he had been feeling. It was unnatural and like nothing he had ever known. And, definitely not something he could talk to Master about… and surely not Belle being as how she was the reason for such feelings. The only option he had was with his dear old friends that he had grown up with behind these stone walls.

"When I saw her in trouble, I had to do something about it. There was nothing that could stop me… and now she's here. Now… now she's seen me," he turned to face his hideous, grimacing friend, "She's seen me and she is unafraid." Even three days after that event, it was still almost impossible for Quasimodo to believe that it had really happened, that she had looked upon his face, his sin and smiled at him – _touched_ him. Not only had she not cringed away, but she had touched him… laid her hand upon his cheek, wrapped her arms around his neck, and laced her fingers with his own.

Such things… such wonderful things – he had never imagined them happening to him. They were simple gestures of course… when she had wanted him to look at her, she had lifted his face, when she had needed support, she had clutched his neck, and when she was moved… she had touched his hand. Simple, meaningless gestures in the eyes of a normal man – but they were everything in the eyes of the down-trodden bellringer.

Quasimodo had never imagined there to be anything softer than her hands. And yet he felt it sin just to think about.

Despite that, being with her brought him great happiness. This happiness was something very new to his normally cold and dark tower, yet somehow it fit in quite nicely. Just thinking about her now caused him to yearn for her company, to hear more of her life before she came here, to tease her, and to speak of things he had only dared once dream of only to himself. To have someone to share with such dreams of adventure, of something more… it brought warm feelings to his heart. And, he didn't feel so alone. He wasn't the only one who wished for such things.

And most of all… when he was near her, his face just did not seem important anymore. When she looked at him, she saw his eyes; it was almost as if his imperfections were not there. Almost. It was still a barrier, but almost.

Normally he let her approach him when she was ready to see him rather than he go to her.

Even though by some miracle it appeared as if his face did not frighten her, Quasimodo was well aware of how fine a line it could be and he did not want to chance startling Belle in anyway…

To know that such kindness could be directed towards him, that he deserved it… it was almost too much for him to grasp the full understanding of. Quasimodo was not a boy who could express himself openly very well. And, so he showed his gratitude to Belle in silent gestures.

These past three days, every morning before she awoke, he would leave a single white rose on the bedside table, next to her book and candle. The roses were easy enough to get a hold of; there were abundant bouquets of them, and lilies as well, below that adorned the actual sanctuary. Each day a fresh set was brought in from the flower garden behind the cathedral.

He was certain that she enjoyed his little gifts for this morning when he had left her one, he saw where she had started placing them all together in a small, cracked pot in the far corner. She spoke nothing of them, but he had a feeling that her appreciation was as silent as his gratitude.

"I really am sorry I have not spoken with you in a while," he tagged on as an afterthought to his frozen, stone companions, "that isn't fair to you. You were my friends first and I apologize." It was just hard to be swayed by much when it came to his new found friend. He could sense that the gargoyles understood this. They were only made out of stone… as Master had said, but Quasimodo knew they were so much more than that. After all, he was only made out of disproportions and hideousness, but Belle saw so much more than that. The gargoyles had seen many things long before even Master was born. What they saw, he would never know… it was only their secret. To have friends so wise, so timeless – it was an honor.

Even now, Quasimodo sensed his friends urging him to speak with Belle. Perhaps even though they were real to him, there was something in the far corner of his mind that told him that the living girl below him was better suited company.

"I should go to her this time? B-but what would I say? W-what if I startle her?" he asked, so unsure, so nervous. She had always come to him, and thus had time to prepare herself for when she had to look upon his face. If he were to just… come out of nowhere, oh it hurt him to think of the possible fright it could cause her. The thought of scaring others with his face had never bothered him too much, it was just how things were… but the thought of scaring her- it caused him pain, it clutched at his heart.

Yet as Quasimodo thought on it, he realized that chance had been what had gotten him here to this point; and perhaps it would be chance that would work in his favor yet again. He had chanced going into the outside world to save her, he had chanced speaking to her, getting to know her, and he had chanced showing her his face. All had worked out well in the end and so perhaps now would be no different.

With a confidence that he wasn't aware existed, Quasimodo stood from where he was sitting on the platform high above in the belfry and grasped the rope nearest to him. Effortlessly, the hunchback leapt and swung his way down, his rough, calloused hands hardly feeling the burn of the hard rope. The only burning he felt was in his cheeks as he considered the possibilities of what would come out of this.

The minute his feet hit the floor boards, he picked up the sound of gentle humming.

Quasimodo swiveled his head around a few times in an attempt to locate the direction in which the sweet noise was coming from. It took him a little longer than average to pinpoint it due to his poor hearing, but soon enough he began moving towards where he knew Belle to be.

She was out on the parapets, sitting near the edge with her tiny feet hanging over the square, her nose in a book. It appeared as if she was so focused that she wasn't even aware of her own humming.

The song was not one that he knew of, but Quasimodo still enjoyed the pretty and rich sound of her voice. For a moment he wanted to just remain where he stood and continue listening; but that had not been what he came down here for - besides, it reminded him of his own embarrassing encounter when she had overhead him singing not too long ago. Quasimodo hadn't sang since.

Oh...he just knew that if he waited too much longer, he would lose what little nerve he had managed to gather for himself.

"Good morning, Belle," he said, his gentle voice floating from the shadows as he emerged out into the sun.

Belle did not startle, but it was clear from the tensing of her shoulders that she certainly had not expected him to come out and join her.

That did not stop her from placing her book in her lap and turning to face him. Much to his relief there was a smile on her face.

"Bonjour, Quasimodo," she greeted in return, a bit perplexed that he had chosen to approach her this time. That wasn't saying it bothered her – surely not. It was just a change, a change she was glad to see.

He remained at the entrance of the parapet and did not come any closer. Even though it looked all right, he didn't want to push his luck. His eyes fell to the book in her lap and Belle, seeing where his eyes had gone, subconsciously placed her hand on the book's spine.

Quickly, his eyes returned back to hers and he gave a small smile, one of which she returned right away.

"What are you reading?" he found himself asking; he was mainly trying to distract himself from the feeling of his heart seizing whenever she looked at him like that.

Belle lowered her gaze to the book she had placed in her lap and flipped it back over; opening it to the page it was on. She was more than half way finished. But, she had read it several times before – she already knew how it would end.

"Oh it's my favorite. It's a fairy tale about a prince in disguise," she said cheerily.

Quasimodo looked at her in question. A fairy tale?

Seeing his rather perturbed expression, Belle gestured with her hand a simple patting on the ground for him to join her.

Quasimodo paused for a moment before making his way carefully forward and seating himself next to her (with at least a two foot distance in between of course).

Belle carefully handed the book over to him so that he could at least look at some of the pictures, assuming that he wouldn't be able to read the actual text. It wasn't that she though him below her, it was just being educated to read was not a very common thing from what she had observed and she imagined the poor, sheltered bellringer to be no different.

How astonished she was as she watched Quasimodo take the book gingerly in his hand, open it, and focus his eyes. The way those eyes moved back and forth down the page and the way his brow furrowed in steady concentration made it more than apparent that he was _reading_ what was before him. The look he had was very much different than the look the gypsy, Clopin had had when he was looking through the book after he had rescued her from the guards. Belle… couldn't believe it.

"You can… read this?" she asked after a moment.

The hunchback looked up from the page he had been looking over. _Uh oh._ He couldn't tell from the way her voice sounded if this was a good thing or not.

Not trusting his voice, Quasimodo simply nodded and handed the book back to her.

To his utter relief, Belle's eyes brightened and a smile broke out across her pretty face.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, "You are one of the few people I've met who can! How did you learn?" She couldn't help but ask this, she was very curious to know how Quasimodo in his condition had managed to be educated.

"I-I well, my... master taught me. He t-taught me how to read and write in Latin too and I'm learning more Greek now. He taught me to speak… he's taught me everything I know," Quasimodo said, in saying that last part he found himself once again realizing just how important Master was to him, and even Belle's obvious dislike of him and her points on how he was a bad person could not sway him.

He could not understand why his master taught him all these things as he could never really use them in the real world. He also could not understand his master's dislike of the printing press. With such a machine it would perhaps make reading a more common thing. If Master was so against all of Paris reading… then why bother teaching him? He would like to think that it was because he cared for him, but the hunchback could never be for certain when it came to his master and the motive behind his actions.

Quasimodo was then driven from his own quiet thoughts when he caught sight of Belle's face. She looked… stunned.

"You know three languages," she stated, hardly being able to grasp the belief of such a thing.

"W-well, two and a half...M-master spoke of teaching me Anglais once, b-but we never tried. He's hardly here as it is, so I've g-given up believing that we one day will. It would be a nice language t-to learn – though a very hard one," he went on, not noticing her shock. Speaking so much of his master and all that he had done for him had distracted him greatly. It caused an overwhelming surge of guilt to fill him.

He was defying his master this very moment; hiding and protecting Belle, a wanted fugitive, here in the very church that Master had gone to the trouble of raising him in. His heart, however, was far stronger than his guilt and Quasimodo knew that he would continue what he was doing now – no matter what.

"Quasimodo?"

The bellringer blinked his eyes a few times and shook his head. Quickly he focused on Belle, his face turning red with embarrassment at his sudden, pensive behavior.

"S-sorry…" he apologized with haste, closing the book and handing it back to the woman next to him.

"An apology isn't necessary. You just looked far away – where were you, my friend?" she asked.

"I-I-I was just thinking about my master," he said, hoping that she would not pry; and from what he knew of Belle, she wouldn't if she could tell he didn't want to talk about it.

She said nothing for a moment. Belle could scarcely imagine having to live under someone that seemed so cruel. What did throw her though was how exceedingly intelligent he must be to be able to teach Quasimodo so many things… that he was _willing_ to teach him so much. A man that did that couldn't be all that bad could he? While Belle wished to believe so, she just didn't know. She did not know this 'Master' that Quasimodo kept bringing up at all and so there was no way for her to really grasp who he was as a person. All she knew was what her friend had told her.

Thinking it wise to turn the subject from something that didn't trouble Quasimodo, Belle decided to once again bring up the fact that he knew _three _languages – well… two and a half (as he had reminded her); he had said that he was in the process of learning Greek.

"I can't imagine what a wide window knowing two other languages must create," she said, the softness returning back to her eyes.

"I can't either," Quasimodo said, a bit sadly.

Belle then realized after he said this that in her time here, she had not seen any books.

"You mean-?"

"There a-are no books here other than the Greek manuscripts and o-of course the Bibles downstairs. I used to have a few of my L-Latin lesson book pages, but they were soon ruined because I read through them so much…" Quasimodo said quickly before Belle could become too shocked. He did not like seeing her that way at all.

"What about story books?" Belle gestured to her own book in her lap, not able to believe that Quasimodo, having the ability to know so much… did not have any other books to expand his horizons – especially with him living all alone up here. He was not aware of his own potential.

"Master never b-brought them for me. He said it was unnecessary for me to fill my head with such, how he put it, 'treacherous nonsense'," he explained. And, it wasn't like he could just stroll down to the library and borrow all the books he pleased. That would only end in disaster in so many ways.

Belle could only frown at this.

"There is nothing treacherous about them," she said in defense of her beloved book, "The stories… they take you far away to a different place, a different time. They take you on quests, adventures… You read about characters, the trials they go through – and they become your friends…" She said this last part almost a little softer than the rest of what she had said.

Those fictional characters had been her only 'friends' for a long time.

Quasimodo tried hard to imagine this, wishing that he too had had that joy that Belle described. It would have made living in solitude all this time even more endurable; he didn't realize just how lonely he had been until Belle. What really stuck out to him though was when she brought up how the characters almost seemed to become her friends. That was not any different than the friendship he had with his gargoyles.

"I-Is that why you love books so much?" he asked after hearing her say all of those wonderful things about reading.

Belle looked at him. How did he know? She had said nothing about her love for books… only the joys of reading…

"Why, yes. How did you know?" she answered, another question quickly behind it. And to think she had been worried about sharing such a thing with him. How silly of her…

"Before I…I brought you here I saw you walking around out there… reading. W-with everything going on, all the people, all the yelling, all the d-distractions, you didn't look up a single time. Th-there was nothing, nothing that could stir you from the world you were in," he said, his voice taking on a lighter tone as he remembered the moment he had first laid his eyes on her. Realizing this, he averted his gaze for a moment whilst fighting the urge to blush. "I-I've never seen anyone concentrate that hard before…" He finished. It was obvious; anyone who put that much attention in their book clearly loved it.

Belle smiled, not really knowing why she had.

"Well, you're right. I love books. I love books more than anything. Aside from my Papa, of course," she said, trying to ignore the bitter sting in heart upon thinking about her dear father, "All my life I've longed for adventure, a chance to go and see the world."

Coming to a topic that she felt so strongly about lead Belle to setting the book on the ground and standing to her feet, leaning further out over the parapet. Quasimodo remained seated, listening intently.

"My situation is not nearly as extreme as yours. But, since I was young, I've wanted so much more than just the quiet life in my sleepy village. Every day is the same. Books… well books help me to escape that. They take me to far off places, places that I've only ever dreamed of going to… And, for just a minute, I am in that world, and I have everything I ever wanted…" Belle said, her voice passionate at first, but it eventually fell away.

As she stood there, gazing off into the clouds, watching birds fly by, she grew strangely sad.

Without a word, she sat back down, placing her elbow on her leg and resting her hand in her palm.

"Now though… now I see that all I ever wanted had been right in front of me the entire time…" she finally said after a while, "and now it's gone." _Freedom._

Quasimodo felt distressed the moment he saw her happiness fade. Oh no…

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the right words. As much as he wished that she loved staying here… he knew that no matter what, she was trapped and she would always be miserable because of that. She couldn't stay here forever… she wouldn't be able to stand it… While he had only known Belle for about a week, he still knew her well enough to know that she had far too much spirit to be suppressed here. It would… it would crush her.

Out of nowhere, he felt a hand lay over his own. Quasimodo almost jumped, but refrained. Instead, he turned to face Belle, finding her to be looking right at him.

"But I have you now. And this wonderful place… That is something I know I can be thankful for," she said kindly, appreciation in her eyes. Shortly after what she had said about losing her life, she had worried that she had maybe offended Quasimodo and wanted to let him know right away that she was not upset that she was here. It was merely the situation that had her so…bereft.

Where would she be without Quasimodo? Why, in a cell somewhere dark and cold of course. At least she was here. At least she was alive… and at least she had a friend. A _real_ one.

Quasimodo smiled at her words, not daring to move his hand that rested under hers. He did not trust his mouth and so he remained silent. Belle seemed to seek comfort in just him physically being there, and if that was enough for her, then he would remain silent and still until the end of time.

The smile that her hunchbacked friend had given her was contagious and Belle found a genuine smile of her own melting over her face. It was so interesting…in just a single look that he had given her, he had brought her all the comfort she needed and he hadn't said or done anything. He had just listened. Listened and understood.

"You're a good listener…" she finally said after a while, removing her hand from resting over his and placing it back in her lap.

Quasimodo ducked his head meekly at this. Since she had been so open, he figured he may as well share something with her too.

"I've learned from the gargoyles… When I-I need to talk, they listen. Th-they don't say anything. I just talk… A-and it helps," he said, hoping silently that she would not find him ridiculous. His imagination had never seemed strange to him. The way he saw it, speaking with the gargoyles was completely natural, they were his equals and so he treated them as such.

Belle, while finding it unusual, didn't see it as ridiculous at all. It was no different than what she said before about the characters in books becoming her friends. Sure, she didn't actually talk to them, but they were all in her imagination as the gargoyles were in Quasimodo's. Other than her Papa, she did not think she would ever meet someone with as big of an imagination as hers.

"You have a wonderful imagination," she said out loud, wanting Quasimodo to know that she did not find his ways strange at all. It was just like his appearance really, while it was not exactly something she was used to, and a bit unusual, she still accepted it for what it was… _and it grew on her with time…_

Again, Quasimodo smiled and ducked his head, but he took the compliment.

"Y-you do too. I've never heard b-books being explained that way before," he answered.

"Do you ever consider of one day leaving here and seeing what you can of the world?" she asked all of a sudden, wondering if maybe his thoughts were as 'crazy' as her own.

"Oh yes… if I could. I dream of it all the time…" he answered, a wistful tone taking hold of his voice.

Belle reached out and touched his arm then and he turned to look at her again.

"Then make the dream real," she answered, already knowing what his response would be.

He gave her a sad smile, but said nothing else. They both knew what was stopping him.

"Forget about what you look like for one second, please? You are good, you are kind, you are very intelligent, and you see and understand things better than anyone I've ever known. If I can look past what is right in front me and see that amazing person underneath, others can too," she said, her voice firm and full of reason.

Quasimodo took the hand that was resting on his arm and held it for a moment, looking her in the eye.

"If only that were true," he said, knowing that his circumstances with Belle were special. Everyone else would be just as Master had said they would. Still, her words filled him with a flame of hope that refused to burn out. He let go of her hand.

Belle found herself resisting the urge to shake his shoulders and again repeat all that she had just said. _Would he ever see? Would he ever get it?_ Or had this so called master of his completely distorted his view? There was no point in arguing this with him for now… His eyes had grown sad and she did not want this so far wonderful day turning around…

For a while neither said anything and just sat where they were, watching the activities on the streets below them. Soon enough though, the winds of the conversation before blew over and Belle felt a little lighter. She would change his mind… somehow. She just knew it.

A thought then quite suddenly reached her, and her eyes grew bright at the idea.

"Quasimodo… would you like to read this with me?" she asked, picking up the book that had been resting beside her and holding it out to him.

The hunchback looked up with sincere surprise. That was a question he had not expected to hear from her at all. And, yet he simply couldn't refuse.

"Oh! Well… Y-yes. I-if you don't mind, I mean. I-I-I'd love to. Sure…" he spoke all this quickly while ringing his hands together and avoiding eye contact. Hesitantly, he turned and took the book from her.

Belle just watched him with an amused yet adoring smile on her face.

"Of course I don't mind. I would not have offered if I had. We'll start at chapter one so you can really understand what's going on. It wouldn't bother me to start over anyways," she said, watching as he carefully flipped the book open, handling it as if it would just simply tear to shreds in his hands at any moment.

Nonchalantly, Belle moved closer to him until her side was pressed against his. It was easier to see the book this way, not to mention she didn't mind sharing a little of his warmth – it was occasionally drafty up here.

Quasimodo tried very hard to not make the breath he just hitched in obvious when he quite suddenly felt her presence at his side. Instead, he held the book out a little more so that Belle could see it without having to strain herself.

"I'll read a page, and then you'll read a page, does that sound all right to you?" she asked him, the anticipation clear in her eyes to get started. There was just something about the idea of sharing this moment with Quasimodo that seemed really special and she just couldn't place why. It was something that had to be done.

Quasimodo smiled and nodded his head.

"That sounds perfect," was all he said.

And so, just like that the two began to read. There was no way to tell who enjoyed it more, as one read, the other that listened had the most content of smiles on their faces. It had soon almost gotten to a point where when they were listening to the other read, they were focusing more of the even flow of their voice rather than the words they were actually saying.

As Belle listened to Quasimodo read, she had to resist the urge to close her eyes. He really did have the most soothing, gentle voice. She had never really noticed too much until now. Before, whenever he spoke, she always paid attention to what he was saying, finding it to be important, rather than the way it sounded when he said it.

It was different now though. She had read the story before… but never like this. Since she was a young child, she had never had anyone, save her Papa, read to _her_ before. And, watching Quasimodo read; the way his eyes would twinkle and the corner of his mouth would drift upwards in a smile of pride at how well he was reading – it just made hearing the story all the more special to her.

Whenever he spoke… there was always a little bit of a stammer in his voice – granted, it was fading the more he got comfortable around her – but as he read, there wasn't a stutter of any kind. All he was saying was quite clear…

"Belle…?"

To her horror, she realized she had completely zoned out in listening to him read, her eyes focused not on the page, but on his lips. Belle shook her head and blinked a few times. Now it was her turn to have a red face.

"I'm sorry!" she quickly said, trying to focus now on where they were at, "I was just… very enthralled with the imagery. The way you read – it was so easy to lose contact with reality for a minute there…" Okay so that wasn't entirely the truth, but it wasn't like she could tell him 'Oh, yes sorry I was just so enchanted by the sound of your voice and the stars in your eyes!' Not only would she be mortified at such a cliché, but she was certain that he would be too. It had not taken her very long at all to figure out how shy Quasimodo was… and still was most of the time.

Even now at her compliment of how well he read he smiled bashfully and closed his eyes.

Belle quickly picked up where Quasimodo left off and she smiled excitedly when she realized it was chapter three.

"Oh! This is one of my favorite parts," she exclaimed, looking from Quasimodo back to the page, "she discovers that it's Prince Charming…"

Quasimodo laughed softly at her own eagerness.

"I wouldn't know," he teased, considering he had not read it yet.

Immediately realizing her error, Belle wanted to slap her forehead. What had gotten into her? She was not acting herself at all! This whole having someone else to share her love of reading with had had her acting all excited and impulsive and it appeared as if there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Again… I apologize. It almost feels like, with how you read, you know the book already…" Shaking her head at herself and avoiding Quasimodo's playful gaze, Belle cleared her throat and began.

Now it was Quasimodo's turn to lose focus. Her behavior had him laughing inside and smiling like a fool. Belle always seemed so mellow and composed. Now, she was almost acting like a child in a bakery full of sweet bread; and he had to say he almost enjoyed the change. She seemed happy, and after hearing earlier how she still felt 'trapped', it was relieving to him that she could feel joy and excitement.

Unlike Belle, who had barely heard what was being read to her, Quasimodo hung off of every word. While still enjoying the smooth, melodic, rise and fall of her voice, he was also captivated by the story. He was beginning to understand now, Belle's strong love for fairy tales. Getting inside someone else's head, seeing things through a different perceptive, it was astounding! Not to mention… it took him away from his bell tower.

Quasimodo just loved how Belle would do the different voices in the dialogue; it put a smile on his face. He tried it too whenever it was his turn, but would just end up making himself laugh at how foolish he sounded. He wasn't as good a story teller as Belle yet, but that didn't matter. They were reading, they were in each other's company, and they were happy.

The sun rose higher and higher over Paris as they continued on, but both were completely lost to time.

They were in their own world, their own fantasy. Best of all though, was that it was a place they were sharing together.

It was only when Belle's stomach gnarled with hunger that she paused in her reading and realized just how much time passed. It was almost late in the afternoon!

Quasimodo soon realized this as well. The bells! Oh! He had masses to ring!

Shortly after Belle had stopped reading, he leapt to his feet, the action a little difficult due to his crooked body. She looked at him in concern.

"I-I-I have to ring the mass!" he said, before wheeling around and scampering off.

Belle watched him go, shaking her head with a fond smile on her face.

Seeing as how he was going to be busy for a little while, Belle slowly stood and, with book in hand, went inside the tower as well.

Setting the book on the bedside table in her room and grabbing an apple out of the basket of food left for them, Belle began to descend the many platforms and ladders.

Sometimes when Quasimodo was kept busy like right now, or when she just wanted a change of scenery, she would go down to the actual cathedral itself and silently attend whatever mass it was that was going on. To all the peasants that came, she didn't look like a wanted fugitive to them; she just looked like one of those who simply chose to stand in the back instead of join them in the pews.

It was always a beautiful service and one she knew Quasimodo would enjoy if he weren't so nervous about coming down. But, it wasn't like she could blame him. And so, alone, she went down the winding stair case that eventually lead her to the grand and fantastic open sanctuary she wished more than anything that she didn't consider her prison.

* * *

><p>Quasimodo managed to begin ringing Emmanuel just in time. He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Already there were days where he wouldn't ring on every hour, if he started not ringing for masses too, people would surely begin to think something was wrong and question what was going on up there. And with how word traveled through Paris… no doubt it would soon get to Master.<p>

He just couldn't bear the thought of what would come to that. He knew it would have to be faced one day in the future… Master was bound to come back some day and at that point he would have to know what to do about Belle. For some reason… even the thought of the right of Sanctuary did not comfort him.

But, again that was something he and Belle could discuss later. He did not want to worry her…

Instead, Quasimodo found himself thinking once more of their lovely day spent reading that book… Immediately a warm smile came to his face. That had been far from what he was expecting. He couldn't wait to read with her again. It had been a huge insight into her world. And, she had let him in willingly. He didn't even ask… she had _invited_ him.

Again, he found he wanted to do something for her. Share something of his own world.

His eyes locked on to the great, bourdon bell that swayed before him.

That was it! The bells! He'd show her the bells.

His iron ladies…

Quasimodo almost found himself feeling a bit nervous – his bells were the biggest part of him. His closest friends… this was going to be a big step for him.

Soon enough, Emmanuel was quieted and Quasimodo eagerly swung and bounded his way down to the platform below.

It didn't take him long to realize that Belle was no longer with him.

As always, a bit of unwelcome panic flared up into his heart and dried his throat. But, Quasimodo quickly tried to calm himself down, knowing that she was downstairs attending the mass. The first day she had decided to do that she had told him in advance and so he tried not to worry too much.

But… it wasn't easy. Her safety meant everything to him and when she wasn't near him where he was able to physically protect her, it did not feel right.

Deciding to distract himself, he limped over to his craft table and seated himself on his makeshift stool.

Looking over his model village, his eyes rested on the piece of fabric that was covering his latest work. He was almost done, there were just a couple things left to paint. Quasimodo reached over and lifted the fabric and took the figure in his hands, he then picked up his paint brush, dipped it in the blue paint and was soon quite busy.

Only once did he pause his work and that was to light the candle at the corner of his table as the sun had begun to set. Soon he would have to ring the Vespers, but he knew he would be finished before then. He only worried about not being done before Belle returned.

In no time at all though, his work had reached its completion. Quasimodo held it out away from him towards the candlelight to study. Nothing could help his soft smile as his eyes carefully scanned over the figure in the bouncing light of the flame. This was his best one.

As if on cue, he heard the ladder far behind him begin to creak as someone started climbing it. Gingerly, he set his latest addition to his village on the table and turned in his seat so that he could face her.

Sure enough, Belle's head poked up from below platform, followed by her shoulders, torso, and the rest of her. She took one look at him and then noticed the untouched basket of food. Belle put her hands on her hips disapprovingly.

"Quasimodo! Have you not eaten this entire time?" she asked, concern in her voice.

Chuckling softly, he stood from his stool and walked towards her.

"No… sorry. B-but from the looks of it, you only had an apple - you're one to talk," he teased, coming to a stop in front of the basket.

He hadn't meant to not eat… with everything going on in his mind and his heart, he just hadn't thought to. It wasn't like he could explain that to her though.

Smile still in place, he reached out and picked up a loaf of bread and took a bite out of it. After swallowing he turned back to her.

"Better?"

Belle laughed then before grabbing a piece of bread herself.

"You left so suddenly, I never had the chance to ask you – did you enjoy the book? Well, what you read of it anyway…" she asked.

"Yes. I understand now how real the worlds become… and the characters. I-I almost forgot I was even here for a moment."

Belle grew excited by this. If only she had more books to show him….

"There are more stories than that, you know. With different plots, different characters," she went on. For some reason, she had in her mind that somehow, some way she would show them all to him. That didn't seem possible at all right now, but not showing someone as educated as Quasimodo the world of books just was not an option to her. "That one is my favorite though."

"I-I can easily say that it's my favorite o-of everything I've ever read," he replied. Considering all he had ever really read had been lessons, passages from manuscripts… that wasn't saying too much.

She smiled. So did he.

The two then seated themselves and ate in comfortable silence.

After swallowing another mouthful, Quasimodo spoke up.

"What kept you after mass? I know it e-ended a while ago."

"Oh I was just speaking with the archdeacon. He wanted to know how I was doing since the last mass I went to. He always has nothing but kind things to say about you," she said.

"Really?" Quasimodo asked, genuinely surprised.

Belle nodded her head, trying not to be too upset at the constant reminder that Quasimodo seldom received praise of any kind.

"Of course. He speaks of how kind-hearted you are and talented to be able to ring the bells so well. He wishes you weren't so shy, but he understands why. He's quite fond of you," Belle stated, noticing how Quasimodo bashfully bowed his head.

He didn't say anything after that for a while, feeling almost a little uncomfortable. Quasimodo was very thankful when he realized it was time for him to ring the Vespers. The sun was almost completely set. Before he stood, he remembered his idea earlier.

"I-I must ring the bells for the Vespers now. W-would you like to see them?" he asked, not daring to breathe.

The look she gave him was strange. It was almost as if she was asking. _Really? I can? Are you sure?_

"There's nothing I'd like more," she replied, interested to see this other part of Quasimodo's world that had been in the dark for her.

"A-All right. This way," he said, making his way towards the platform with the slanted ladder. Belle was right behind him. When Quasimodo climbed to the top, he turned around and held out his hand for her, helping her up the rest of the way.

Belle had only been up here one other time, and she remembered it being lovely, but her memory paled in comparison to what she saw before her now. The last rays of the falling sun trickled in through openings in the tower, casting its light on the iron bells and filling the room with a glimmering, bronze light. It almost looked as if the very air was richer than the king.

She had forgotten that she had stopped moving until she felt a soft tug at her hand. Right away, she turned and locked eyes with Quasimodo; he smiled at her in amusement before guiding her the rest of the way in. The floor boards were uneven in some places and parted in dangerous ways where one could fall through if they weren't careful; he didn't dare release her hand just yet.

Once they were in the center though, Quasimodo let go of her hand and loped over towards a post. With no effort at all, he climbed his way up it until he was on the rafter with two bells above his head.

"This is Jacqueline and the one on the left is Gabrielle," he said proudly, as if he were introducing either one of his most dear friends, or a cherished, ancient relative.

Belle said nothing, but nodded her head, gazing up into the rafters high over her head. Again she was almost truck dumb by the vastness and amount of all these bells. She was sure that even if she had chosen to say anything, they would swallow any sound that her voice made.

Grasping the rope in his hands, Quasimodo looked back over his shoulder at her.

"Uh… you may want t-to cover your ears. I-It's very loud if you're not used to it…" he warned.

Belle smiled up at him in appreciation and placed her hands over her ears. Oh yes. She was very aware of how loud they could be. The bells had taken her by surprise on more than one occasion in the past.

Without any deliberation at all, Quasimodo gave a great pull on the rope, a loud clang sounding off shortly after. He kept his steady rhythmic movement until both bells were singing out into Paris. As always, he lost himself in the sound and for a moment, he forgot the Belle was even below him, watching.

Boldly, he leapt from the rafter towards a larger bell and grasped the lip. The force of his body knocking into it sent the bell swinging and tolling deeper and louder than the other two. It was a beautiful, almost dark, harmonic tone.

With her hands clasped firmly over her hears, Belle watched on breathlessly as Quasimodo practically flew around the bells, getting them all to sing, each sound different yet flowing well with the next. The look on his own face, she observed, was nothing if not contented happiness. This was what he was meant to do. What he had grown up doing. Seeing him do as such… it was right. She felt as if she were watching the very soul of Notre Dame at work.

It didn't last too long for soon, Quasimodo dropped from the rafters and was beside her again. Belle waited until the bells had swayed their way to silence before speaking.

"You looked so happy," she stated, only pointing out what she had observed.

The merry twinkle did not leave Quasimodo's eye.

"I am happy. All my friends are up here with me," he replied without hesitating.

Belle quickly understood the meaning of his words and wordlessly placed her hand on his shoulder.

The bells were his friends, the gargoyles, and she was too. She was a part of what made him so happy.

He let them stay as they were for a few moments longer before turning his head towards where all the other bells were.

"I'll introduce you to the rest," he announced happily, pulling away from her but gesturing for her to follow.

When they were further into the belfry, Quasimodo leapt onto a wooden post again and climbed his way back up to the rafter.

His hand reached up and caressed the bell next to him fondly before he turned to the woman looking on in curious wonder below him.

"This is Guillaume," he said, patting the bell he had just touched delicately, "And further back is Pasquier, Thibauld, and Eli."

Belle followed his hand as he gestured to the different bells, each one varying in size and shade, and probably sound if she were to hear them ring again.

"Do all your bells have names?" she asked, finding this all fascinating.

Quasimodo nodded his head before flipping off the rafter and landing beside her. He was very pleased to be talking about something he knew very well – after all, he had grown up with these ringing beauties and it had been his obligation to know every little thing about them.

"Do some of them have different purposes?" Belle found herself asking as she reached out and touched the bell nearest to her, it was so small she was sure that even she could give it a simple push and send it ringing.

"Yes," Quasimodo answered, his eyes on the bell that she had grazed with her fingertips, "that right there is Little Marie – her song sets the souls of all the children free who've died."

Belle gave a sad smile at the bell, what a tragic and beautiful task…

"This is Big Marie," he limped over to the bell near Little Marie, this one decently bit bigger, "when her voice rings out, it's for the mariners that set sail."

His hand just barely raked over the iron, as if he was almost afraid to touch the bell and insult it with his ugliness.

Belle followed him around the room with her eyes, noticing how he seemed to cherish the bells as if they were the finest treasure in all of France, in all the world. And, to Quasimodo – they might as well have been.

"Is there a bell you like the most?" she asked, wondering that even with his deep love for all of them, if there was one that he preferred even more.

A strange, lopsided smile suddenly graced the hunchback's face and he nodded his head. He tried to ignore the irony of that question and give her a real answer.

Wordlessly, he looked upward and she followed his gaze to the bell looming high above them. Belle stared up into its very center, almost hypnotized by the way the shadows inside almost made it seem an endless abyss.

When Belle turned to face Quasimodo, she gasped to see him no longer beside her, but up on the rafter standing next to the large bell.

With genuine carefulness, he placed his palm on the thick bead line.

"Grand Marie – mother to the other two. She rings for lovers who wed…" his voice faded then, but he tried not to let it.

Belle continued staring upwards at him and his favorite.

"She's beautiful," she said, taking her eyes off the bell and moving further along. She then caught sight of another bell – larger than any of the others – high up above another platform.

Intrigued, she headed over to the nearest ladder and began to climb it.

Quasimodo easily saw where she was headed and swung from rafter to rafter to meet her there.

When she reached the platform, she circled the bell a few times, her eyes wide at its massiveness.

Hesitantly, Belle reached out and touched it, the iron warm beneath her palm.

"Who is this one?" she asked, fully drawn in now by this amazing instrument.

In no time at all, Quasimodo was beside her and he gently tapped the bell with his finger so that it vibrated, the lowest of sounds coming from it.

Belle smiled at the warm vibration she felt, the low noise it made being strange and eerie, but at the same time, mysteriously beautiful.

"Emmanuel…" he finally introduced.

Her smile grew and she ran her hand further down the bell, its sound fading then.

"Emmanuel," she repeated. This one was her favorite.

"The biggest of them all. This one sings for Angelus, the hours in the day, most of the masses, and a majority of the festivals," he explained, noticing how Belle would not look away.

"This is my favorite of all your friends."

He could not help the strong sense of pride he felt that she seemed to enjoy his friends almost as much as he did; with the way she studied Emmanuel…

"Would you like to ring them?" he asked, unable to resist the idea.

Belle turned suddenly at such a notion.

"I can?" she asked, wanting to make sure. The bells seemed to be a very personal part of Quasimodo's world – the thought of anyone else ringing them seemed absurdly wrong.

"Yes, b-but only if you want to," he said quickly.

"Of course I want to. I don't see it being very possible – my strength is nothing compared to yours," she said, half teasing and half serious.

Quasimodo's eyes lit up as she said yes and he, with much less hesitance this time, took her hand and led her towards the ladder before helping her down.

"I'll help you," he declared.

Soon enough, they were on the center platform where several ropes hung. Quasimodo walked towards one of the less frayed of the ropes, taking it in his hands and holding it out to her. Belle reached out and grasped it.

She almost hitched in a breath, she hadn't even pulled yet and already she could just feel just how powerful the instrument was looming above her. Her eyes looked up high into the oblivion that was the tower ceiling before locking back on to Quasimodo. The look she gave him was clearly one that stated 'what am I supposed to do with this?'

The bellringer grinned at such a look and tried to refrain from chuckling. He only offered her one word.

"Pull."

Not saying anything, Belle gave a mighty tug.

Nothing happened.

If anything, all there was was the wind whistling through the openings in the bell tower, as if mocking her. The weight she was distributing was uneven and Belle almost found herself losing her footing, having only the rope to depend on for balance.

Out of nowhere, she felt a warm hand at her waist, keeping her upright and steadying her.

It was a good thing neither could see the other's face. Both were red.

"Here…" that soft voice said behind her.

The trembling hand that rested against her waist then went to her shoulder, the other going around her on the other side and grasping the rope just above where her own hand was.

He was quite suddenly directly behind her, his folded chest firmly pressed against her back. Belle swallowed hard at the contact, certainly not expecting it… but not disliking it.

Carefully, the hand on her shoulder then moved forward and rested over her other hand that held the rope.

"Pull," he said again.

She found herself obeying without thinking about it. This time though, as she pulled, he pulled with her.

The rope gave immediately, and after a few tugs – the bells were soon to follow.

Belle hardly noticed how loud they were, the bells were nothing compared the pounding of her heart racing through her ears.

"Y-you're doing it," he encouraged then. Belle could almost hear the smile in his voice.

She nearly looked back at him and grinned, but feared to do so at their sudden proximity to each other.

"No. _You're_ helping me," she replied, wondering if he could even hear her.

With his strength behind her, as a crutch, Belle almost felt invincible. It felt to her as if nothing in the world could get her so long as she was like this. Never had she felt more protected…

…Never had she felt more confused at what it was that resonated in her heart.

They kept at it for several more strokes when quite suddenly, Quasimodo released any hold he had on her.

Nothing could stop the loud gasp of surprise that left her as her feet abruptly left the ground and she was suddenly dangling quite high up, swinging right along with the bell.

"Oh!" Belle gasped, surprise wracking her body at suddenly being this high up with nothing else around her. This had been entirely unexpected!

The hunchback was just as surprised at seeing her go sailing upwards as she had been. He had let go to simply give her a chance to ring the bells herself… not give her flying lessons. He was so used to solidly being planted on the ground while ringing, the concept of her strength (or lack thereof) had not occurred to him until just now

"It's all right!" he hollered up at her, "just hold on!"

Once the bell stopped moving, so would she.

Belle just nodded and shut her eyes at his instruction… it wasn't like she had any other option. It was perhaps a ten foot drop from where she was to the platform below her… one she could probably make, but she did not want to risk re-twisting her ankle.

Finally, _finally _after what seemed like eons, the bell stilled.

Belle opened her eyes and looked back down at Quasimodo directly beneath her.

"Belle, let go of the rope – I'll catch you," he said, his voice firm and not wavering, "I promise."

He meant it.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes again, Belle released her hold.

She didn't even feel herself fall.

All she knew was that there had been no warmth… and now suddenly warmth was all around her.

The moment she opened her eyes, she saw nothing but darkness. It didn't take her long to realize that her face was pressed deeply into his chest.

Belle slowly lifted her head to look up at him, hazel clashing profoundly with turquoise.

Somehow in her fall, she had managed to land perfectly in his arms, her own arms wrapped tightly –perhaps to the point of near strangulation- around his neck.

And he was holding on to her almost just as tightly. As if both their very lives depended on it.

When she was this close to him it was almost as if the deformity was nonexistent; all she could see were his eyes and the windows that they truly were. She saw the panic, the concern, and the relief. What she also saw… was something soft; soft yet strong. It was a strength that she suddenly felt stir her own heart. Several trembles wracked his body, but Belle hardly noticed.

Neither moved. Neither spoke.

All they saw, all that mattered, was their eyes; their eyes that told each other things that they, in all their discussions, had not yet said to each other. Things he had felt for a while, things she was only just now starting to feel.

"I-I guess the bells are far heavier than you," Quasimodo mumbled stupidly, having nothing better to say- but wanting to say something.

Belle continued to look unblinking into his eyes.

"It would appear so…" she replied, her voice breathless and barely there.

Never had they been this close. And Belle realized with bewilderment that she wanted to be closer-

Somewhere high above the, a fluttering commotion started up as several pigeons abruptly took flight. And just like that – the spell, or whatever on earth it was that had come over them both, was broken.

Shaking her head, Belle took a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

The bellringer gently set her back on the ground, keeping his hand on her arm until he was certain she had her footing. Once he took his hand off her, he moved a couple feet away.

Belle cleared her throat awkwardly and looked elsewhere than his face, her eyes landing on the bells high above again. She could just faintly still hear their low vibrations in the heavy air.

"People are going to wonder what the occasion was… The bells don't normally ring at this time, do they?" she asked softly.

Quasimodo clasped his trembling hands together in hopes to still them.

"No th-they don't…" he replied, sneaking a look at her, only to find that she was doing the same thing.

Not being able to stand the confused silence that seemed to have come over them, Belle's eyes softened and she moved forward and took his hand.

"Thank you," she said then.

Quasimodo almost jumped when she took his hand, but he managed to control himself.

"For what?"

"Everything. Reading with me, the bells… catching me," she spoke that last part in a bit of a lighter tone.

Quasimodo laughed nervously and looked down at his feet.

"Y-you're…you're welcome," he answered.

Belle squeezed his hand and he looked back up at her.

There was no light now except the faint rays of the moon, but both their eyes flickered like hungry flames in the darkness.

"Your bells are beautiful. Paris is lucky to have someone as gifted as you look after them and help them to sing," she stated.

He modestly rubbed the back of his head.

"I just pull the ropes."

"It takes more than pulling the ropes, Quasi, I experienced that first hand," she teased. _Quasi _she liked that variant of his name – she chose to ignore its actual meaning.

To her delight, a genuine chuckle left him – not the nervous laughter from before. He too had enjoyed the shortening of his name and expressed as much by the soft, lopsided smile he gave her.

"Yes, I'm sorry a-about that. I-I didn't realize the bell would take you with her," he said in a flurry of words, as if he feared he couldn't get the apology out fast enough.

The look she gave him though stilled his lips.

"You don't need to be sorry, you were able to catch me – and now that think about it, being up there was quite… exciting," had she not been so startled then, she probably would have enjoyed it; though she wasn't about to try it again anytime soon

"Was it th-the adventure you were looking for?" Quasimodo jokingly asked, remembering how she spoke before of wanting more out of life.

Belle smiled.

"Something like that," she answered, trying not to think about what she had felt shortly after she had let go of the bell...ans she had been in his arms. _That_ had certainly been an adventure.

Realizing that he was still holding her hand, he let go and let his arms fall limply at his sides, but the shy smile still remained on his face.

Even though it was not all that late, Belle felt strangely tired after the events of the day. She almost felt bad, it always seemed as if she was the one to turn in before he did, as well as wake up after him. How Quasimodo could have such energy all the time was beyond her, but she did not question it.

"You're about to go to bed, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.

Belle started at this. How did he know?

"Yes, actually. How could you tell?"

Quasimodo hesitated for a moment, but then finally answered.

"You… you just had that look is all. Y-your eyes always seem to dim a little just before you make the decision…"

She couldn't describe what it was she felt then, but it couldn't have been anything short of endearment. Her hunchbacked friend noticed every little thing about her, things even she herself had overlooked. But, the second she thought more on it, she knew it made sense. Of course he would be observant… his little wooden village downstairs was enough proof of that.

"What _don't_ you see?" she playfully asked, beginning to back up a little towards the ladder.

He almost appeared taken aback by this. An answer didn't seem to want to come.

"I-I-I only see what I'm meant to see," he finally said after putting a bit of thought into it.

Her soft laughed filled the darkness. A knowing look appeared in her eyes.

"You see the world, Quasimodo," she said then before turning and making her way down the ladder, leaving him with his thoughts, "Goodnight."

He remained frozen there well after she had left and the sounds of her footsteps had ceased, the only movment from him being the light trembles of his hands.

She… He…

Oh…

* * *

><p>Belle carefully climbed down the last of the ladders, thoughts whirling around in her head like a vicious wind. <em>Where had that come from? What was this? The bell. The roses…<em>

It had not been hard to see that Quasimodo cared for her; she knew that he was not used to kindness and therefore reacted quite strongly to the kindness she showed him. What she was by far not expecting was to care so heavily for him in return. Or at least begin to…

Never in a million years had she imagined feeling towards him what she had felt earlier. She was just being silly; and the fact that she was up in this tower with no one else to talk to other than him… of course she'd feel some sort of bond towards him.

It was just compassionate friendship and nothing more.

_If it is simply that then why is it taking so much effort for you to convince yourself?_

Before Belle could even attempt to shake that thought form her head, her eyes landed on Quasimodo's craft table.

It wasn't the table as a whole that had gotten her attention… it was the newest edition standing there in the middle of the model village.

Moving closer to the table, Belle got a better look at the figurine under the moonlight.

No detail had been overlooked; there was nothing extraordinary about it – but it was more than apparent that it had been made with a loving eye. Belle picked up the little wooden model and observed it carefully, a smile growing more and more on her face.

Everything from the minute ribbon in the hair to the hands holding a basket with a tiny book inside was perfect. Belle felt her heart tighten when she laid eyes on the bright, happy smile and the tiniest pink in the cheeks.

It was her.

It was her through the eyes of Quasimodo.

Again that feeling was there; and this time, Belle didn't try to fight it.

After staring at the smaller version of herself for a while longer, she placed it back on the table, but she didn't stop there. Her attention then turned to the oddly shaped figurine she knew so well alone up in the model of Notre Dame. She took it carefully into her hands, smiled fondly at it for a moment and then placed it down in the village square next to her own figurine for company. Something about the two being side by side just looked right to her.

Giving the display one last glance, Belle turned and went off to bed.

That next morning when she awoke, there wasn't a white rose waiting for her – but a red one.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay first things first: My deepest apologies on the delay. I'm not going to make a long list of excuses - you all know the holidays and the back to school rush can keep people quite busy. I'm moving back in a couple days, but I've been packing for a while. Also... sorry again for the length - again I found it difficult to cut the flow and found it better left alone. I think it's safe to say you can just expect lengthy chapters from now on... I hope it's at least worth the wait /:  
><strong>

**Secondly: Oh my goodness! Thank you so much for all the reviews everyone. There were several points in this chapter that I struggled, but your reviews helped so much. They will continued to be VERY appreciated. **

**I promise to lighten up on the Belle/Quasi fluff soon. It's getting to be a bit much even for me - an established bond between the two is important though, but I promise you'll be seeing some action in the near future. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it contains my dream that actually inspired this whole story.**

**NOTES:**

***For all you historians, I am indeed aware that Emmanuel was not installed until the 17th century - Disney magic, okay? Emmanuel will be an important element in later chapters.**

***One white rose means innocence, secrecy, purity. One red rose means I love you.  
><strong>

**Have a great week!**

**-QuasimodoLeBossu  
><strong>


	11. Judas

**A/N: Hey everyone! I know this one is short and I am genuinely sorry. This chapter was originally going to be quite long****, but I ended up (reluctantly) having to split it up do to one of the transitions cutting too much into the flow of the story. Bad news? Short chapter. Good news? Another longer chapter is literally just around the corner. I only need to edit a few things and fix the ending of it a little. It's a little rough around the edges - but it's coming! I've barely had time to myself with how crazy this semester has been.  
><strong>

**Hope you all can forgive me! All right, now lets see what Frollo's up to...**

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><p>Chapter – 11<p>

Judas

The sounds of whip lashes and screams of agony were not welcoming ones to Phoebus de Chateaupers as he made his way further into the Palace of Justice. The deeper he got into this hostile and despairing environment, the more he thought that returning to Paris was a mistake. He had been summoned though and unless he wanted dishonor on his good name and reputation, then he knew it very prudent to answer the call. It just irked him remarkably so that there were wars going on and here he was far away from them and strolling down a dank corridor that smelled of rot and old blood. What was the glory in that exactly?

He walked with confidence, but there was an obvious air of weariness in his step from the long journey. Judging by the sight of him with his tall, solid build, light hair, and firm features – he was a man who took care of himself and wasn't swayed by much.

He continued looking around.

_Lively place…_ he thought sarcastically to himself, flinching as he heard yet another scream further up the hall. What Phoebus was about to get himself into, he was not fully aware – but so far it was not looking up.

The darkness of the hallway he was walking down made it very difficult to see and so Phoebus hardly had time to react when a guard abruptly came around the corner of the intersection of hallways. The captain's soldier reflexes were as solid as ever and he managed to side step the what-would-have been collision just in time.

The guard took one look at Phoebus's armor and straightened a little, a brief salute soon to follow.

"Captain, what may I do for you Monsieur?" he asked in monotone.

Phoebus gave him a brief look over before allowing himself to relax just a little bit – it was impossible to do so completely in a place like this…

"Where can I find the Minister of Justice?" he asked, figuring he could probably find him himself, but he didn't want to spend more time stumbling about this awful place if he could simply get directions.

"Straight ahead and to the left," the guard barked, obviously wanting out of the building as much as Phoebus did.

The captain turned his head towards where the guard pointed out.

"I see, thank-" he turned back just to see that the guard was no longer anywhere in sight, "you?"

He shook his head and began making his way towards the room further down and to the left.

When Phoebus reached his destination, he found the door closed. After giving three, loud knocks a reply was not far behind.

"Enter."

Doing so, Phoebus was momentarily surprised by the rays of sun coming through the window; his eyes had grown used to the miserable darkness in the corridor behind him.

Once his eyes had yet again readjusted themselves, he was able to get a better view of where he was and who he was with.

This Minster of Justice certainly didn't look as intimidating as he had been made out to be among those in town. He was definitely a couple, if not more, decades older than him, thin – almost frail, with graying hair. Though as he looked at him, he saw his eyes burning like two fierce coals in the pit of a gorging flame and immediately Phoebus felt a little smaller.

The minster took one look at him and seemed to almost give him a nod of approval.

"I see we have here the intrepid Captain-of-the-Guard. Your attendance pleases me," he spoke fluidly – his voice unnervingly calm.

"Sir," Phoebus answered, standing straighter.

"Minster Claude Frollo," he introduced, standing from his chair.

The captain eyed him with distrust. This 'Frollo' suited this place well.

"An honor, sir," he lied smoothly, "reporting for duty."

"Yes, yes. I expect nothing short of excellence in your performance. Your service record says as such. I sincerely hope you will not disappoint me," Frollo replied, circling him then as if he were trying to learn all his secrets and flaws.

Though his face did not betray him, Phoebus was genuinely growing less fond of this Minister of Justice.

"You shall have the very best of everything you ask for, Sir," he replied, watching him from the corner of his eyes.

Frollo smiled darkly.

"Good. My men have been lacking in their performance regrettably," he said, moving towards the window and looking out towards the village below, "gypsies aside, they can't even locate a mere village girl…" Frollo was growing most impatient with that. The whole situation had stayed far from his mind until he had had that uncomfortable encounter with that vile sinner who was supposedly this girl's father.

"What am I to do with them?" Phoebus asked, walking up to stand beside him at the window.

The two proceeded to talk of plans for the other soldiers, specific orders, and other duties expected for the Captain-of-the-Guard to carry out.

The whole time, Phoebus found himself growing more irritated by the fact that he had been called from the wars to fight a much smaller cause that didn't even need attention as it was. Frollo wished him to help in sweeping the gypsies, foreigners, and the beggars off the streets of Paris; as well as find their hide out, the Court of Miracles and destroy it. That was going to be like beating a dead horse – pointless and a waste of time.

Several times, Phoebus almost spoke out and said as such, but he wisely held his tongue. Whatever Frollo's deal was with these gypsies was a serious one and even though the captain could think nothing of it – it was quite apparent that that wasn't an option.

"Very good, Sir," he said as their discussion began to come to a close.

"You may go, Captain," Frollo said in dismissal, "and ask the guards, Yvon and Jean for the offending girl's description. There are already a couple guards stationed near where her house is. Someone of your advanced abilities should be able to find her in no time as opposed to those buffoons carrying around swords who call themselves soldiers."

Phoebus nodded his head and turned on his heel, gratefully leaving Minster Claude Frollo behind.

The minister watched his new captain depart before turning back to face the window. After meeting such a disciplined young man, he felt a little better about the control over Paris.

Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers was clearly a man who knew what he was doing and Frollo felt exceedingly prideful that he was under his rule. There was only one thing that had picked at his suspicions and that was the prominent yet well hidden spark that this Phoebus seemed to have. All his other men were like lifeless drones and followed his orders without question. While he expected nothing less from Phoebus… he couldn't help but wonder.

As he continued to stare out the window, his eyes rested on Notre Dame across the village and his brow furrowed. Quasimodo had adopted a most strange ringing habit, he had observed, these past couple weeks. Missing hours, being late for masses, ringing at random times all together… It was quite peculiar behavior and something he would surely look into once business to this runaway girl and her father was attended to.

Honestly, he had completely forgotten about the prisoner named Maurice shortly after he had been arrested – until he had spoken with him while he was in his cell. That confrontation had stayed in his mind since then and Frollo found it almost intolerable to think of the fact that the madman's daughter still roamed the streets right under their noses.

Of course, it obviously was evidence of witchcraft – how else could she have evaded his guards for this long? There was also the thought that she had cowardly run away and abandoned her father to die, but Frollo believed the other option to be more likely. Those who dealt in dark magic were generally more bold and defiant. The sooner she was found and they both were executed, the better. They were travelers not of this town, hardly different than any gypsy – therefore they would be treated as such and made examples of.

And they, as well as the other gypsies once the Court of Miracles was revealed, would be put in their rightful place among the flames of Satan's domain.

It was only a matter of time now...

Much to his irritation, he heard another loud knock on the door. Momentarily rubbing his temple, Frollo turned from the window again and faced the door. This better be worth his time…

"Enter," he stated again.

The guard, Yvon, came into the room then, looking most unnerved.

Frollo had to keep himself from gritting his teeth; he had just told Phoebus to look for him and Jean… the captain was going end up going in circles thanks to Yvon's idiocy unless he found Jean first.

"Minister Frollo, sir," he greeted, coming to a stop about half way through the room.

"Yes, what is it?" he nearly snapped.

"We might have a lead on the escaped witch girl," he said then, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"And?"

Yvon went back over towards the door and poked his head out into the dark corridor.

"Bring him in!" he called and shortly after two more soldiers were in the room, holding on to a rather irate looking peasant man.

"When I said I could answer questions I didn't mean you bastards could just drag my arse here!" he snapped in aggravation at the guards, "I have rights you know!"

Frollo looked the tall man over skeptically, finding nothing special about him. What he had in height obviously made up for what he lacked in intelligence. There was dullness in the man's smoky gray eyes. If it weren't for his height and impressive physique then he would have been a useless existence on this earth.

"State your name," he said in near monotone.

The man cleared his throat and tugged his arm away from the soldier.

"Jules. Jules de Moreau," he said then. He took a step forward then and Frollo noted that he had an obvious limp in his step.

"And, Monsieur Moreau, you say you have something to share with me regarding a wanted fugitive?" he asked then, his patience a heavy mask over his flaming eagerness.

"That's right," Jules replied in a thick, arrogant tone.

"Well, spit it out!" Yvon growled then, but was quickly quieted by Frollo holding up a hand at him.

The Minister of Justice raised his eyebrows at the peasant, giving him his full attention.

Jules took this as an invitation to begin.

"This guard here was asking around if we'd seen a woman matching a description he listed off. And, I saw her all right…" he faded off then for a moment, recalling exactly how he remembered her form looking under the moonlight…

"Almost two weeks ago, me and my men saw her outside the church just walking around. Then out of nowhere…this…this… _thing, _this monster attacked two of us and then carried her off towards Notre Dame! I saw it all just before I lost consciousness. That thing looked like it was supposed to be human… but it wasn't... it was crooked and... and _hideous_. I'm sure it was a demon, summoned by her no doubt for protection. You must catch her, sir, she's Satan's mistress!" Jules gestured towards his useless leg, "aint it pretty?" he asked sarcastically, remembering how that awful hunchbacked thing had thrown him across the square. True, he left out the whole him and his friends attacking her part of the story, but who was to know any way?

However, his thoughts froze the moment he saw the look on Frollo's face.

It was almost unreadable… there was just one very prominent emotion there and that was pure rage. He certainly had not expected to see such a look on the calm man's face.

Yvon saw this as well and quickly grabbed Jules arm.

"You can spend a day in the stocks for making up such a tale," he spat, beginning to yank the struggling man out.

"Hey! You fool! It's the truth I tell you! I swear it!" Jules cried, fighting against Yvon as hard as he could, though his injured leg made the task difficult.

"_You_ are the fool!" the guard bellowed in response, giving the tall man another yank, more guards coming to his assistance.

"No," Frollo then said firmly, fire in his eyes once again. Even though his voice had been quiet, there had been enough venom there that every single person in the room seemed to hear it… the single word echoing chillingly in their ears.

Yvon looked at him in question.

"Sir?"

Frollo walked past him and back towards the window, trying very hard to keep his shoulders from shaking from the rage he felt then. Not just rage – betrayal. _Judas._

"Give the man a coin for his assistance and release him."

"But, sir-"

"Do as I say," the minister warned. Everyone knew then that there would be no arguing.

When it was clear that Frollo was going to say no more, the bewildered guards escorted a cocky Jules out and shut the door behind them.

Again Frollo's eyes landed on Notre Dame, seeing her differently than before… and everything beginning to make sense.

The disappearance. The lack of progress. The strange ringing from the bells…

He could not believe it and did not want to. But, he knew then that there was no other way.

He understood now.

That 'monster' and 'demon' that Jules had spoken so shamelessly about earlier was someone that Frollo knew _very_ well. Someone that only he knew of. Someone who had both denied and betrayed him. Someone who he would make pay…

His fists clenched.

"Quasimodo…" Frollo hissed.

_Judas…_

* * *

><p><em>That man needs a one way ticket to a madhouse…<em>

Trying to find his way out of the Palace of Justice as quickly as possible without being too obvious about it, Phoebus took long strides with his legs down the corridor.

He didn't pass anyone and he kept his eyes locked straight ahead. The soldier felt nothing short of outraged, but it wasn't displayed on his handsome, stoic face just yet. All that Frollo had shared with him on gypsies, foreigners, and whatever the hell else the old man had said was complete trash to him. He knew that some gypsies could be violent, but so could others who weren't even of the gypsy race.

None of it made sense to him and now that he was ordered to prevent them from entering as well as forcing them off the streets and hunting down their 'Court of Miracles'… Phoebus had a feeling that it would only get worse. But, he had sworn an oath and he was under Frollo's law – and he had pledged himself to that law – not knowing what he was getting into – but a pledge none the less.

Phoebus turned onto another corridor, holding down a cringe as he realized he would pass cells with several prisoners within.

He had a feeling that every single person that was behind those bars did not deserve to truly be there.

As he passed a cell with a couple gypsies, they spat at him while he passed. Phoebus's brow furrowed, but he looked straight ahead knowing it to be inappropriate to start a fight with one already caged.

"That's real shiny armor yeh got there," one taunted behind him.

"Better watch out or we might steal it. Because we steal _everything_ apparently," another said, his voice bitterly sarcastic.

"Run while you can or we'll use our _evil witchcraft_ to burn through these bars," the one that had spoken before called out with the same amount of sarcasm.

The captain resisted the urge to speak out of how he agreed with them on how absurd all this was, but he knew better than to. He had no control of what became of the gypsies. But, they were right… and innocent. There was no greater crime than punishing the innocent.

A terrible and ragged cough to the far right of him instantly grabbed Phoebus's attention and without being able to stop himself, he looked to see who was inside.

It was a mere old man who appeared even older than he actually was do to his gaunt features and hollow eyes. He looked truly awful and, unable to stop it from doing so, Phoebus felt his heart go out to him. What could this man possibly have done?

It was then that he remembered Frollo's earlier concerns on some old man and a machine invented by the 'Devil'. At first, Phoebus had thought he was talking about the printing press seeing as how the minister had remarked too of how he disapproved of it. But no – it was some invention that this old man had made himself.

The older man soon noticed Phoebus and the look he then gave him left the captain powerless to turn away.

Sliding across the cell floor on his knees, Maurice reached out and grasped the bars, franticness in his face and his uneven breaths. His white knuckles trembled hopelessly as he stared up at the captain.

"Wh-where is she?" he spluttered, "Where is Belle?" He then went into another coughing fit.

The gypsies behind the captain that had been taunting him earlier grew very silent.

Phoebus could only look at him in sympathetic confusion. This man was no more a demon than he was the king of France.

"No one knows," he answered honestly, assuming the man was asking for this daughter that 'got away'.

He wanted to leave, knowing it to be wrong to interact with prisoners, especially answer their questions – but Phoebus was anchored by this man's powerfully desperate gaze.

The man's shoulders visibly sagged as he relaxed his body. Phoebus was astonished to see relief on his features.

"Good," he breathed, wiping some of the sweat from his fevered brow, "If you don't know where she is, you can't get her. She'll be safe. Oh maybe she'll run… she'll run home. As long as she's safe…" All that he babbled next was rushed and frantic and Phoebus then wondered if Maurice was even talking to him anymore. By the tone of his blurred voice, it seemed as if he was trying to assure himself more than anything.

The captain had no idea what to say – completely perplexed.

"I am innocent you know," the man said suddenly, looking up at him with maddened, tear-filled eyes, "We both are…My Belle and me. We only wanted a better life. We are _innocent_."

Phoebus allowed his soldier's demeanor to soften only a little bit and he sighed.

"I know."

Maurice blinked in surprise, not quite believing that he actually agreed with him. Then again, he had not seen this soldier around here in the near two weeks he had been imprisoned. Each day he dreaded seeing Belle being dragged into this wretched place… to know that her whereabouts were still unknown, it brought him immense comfort.

The desperate madness left his face for a moment and he looked at the soldier, really looked at him. And, Phoebus found himself locked still by the strange man's wise eyes.

"You're different from the others," he said, yet another cough soon to follow.

Phoebus was not sure if this was a compliment.

"I'm not a mindless idiot if that's what you mean," the captain replied.

The old man offered him a strange, crooked smile at this, but it quickly melted away.

It was almost as if smiling here in this wretched place wasn't even possible.

"Monsieur… don't let them harm my Belle," he rasped. This man might be his only hope for his daughter's freedom.

Phoebus blinked a few times and allowed the calm to wash over again; shielding the previous emotions he had allowed the man to see earlier.

"I can't promise anything," he said quietly, "but I wish I could." He really did.

The old man bowed his head in despair and said no more.

Phoebus turned and began walking away. This wasn't the first time he felt his heart torn between what he _should_ do and what he was _told_ to do.

The gypsies that had so ruthlessly taunted him earlier exchanged intrigued looks after the captain's retreating back, no longer having anything hateful to say.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Again, I sincerely apologize for the short chapter. But it is essential to the story. Originally I was not going to have Phoebus in the story at all, but after I got a few requests via PM I found a way to work him into the plot without altering it too much. I am going to go ahead and say this though - no he is not going to be in some sort of triangle with Belle and Quasi; his role is very different in this story.**

**And before anyone else asks - yes Esmeralda is indeed going to show up, I promise! (: She has a crucial part in the story much, much later on.**

**Hope I did justice to everyone's character! No Belle and Quasi in this one unfortunately... They needed a break. They'll be back though. _Very_ soon!  
><strong>

**NOTES:**

***Jules, in case you do not remember, is the man that attacked Belle in Chapter 5.**

***When Frollo thinks of Judas, he is comparing Quasimodo's betrayal towards him to Judas's betrayal towards Christ. Yep, it's gettin' serious now, folks!**

**I really hope you guys liked this despite it's shortness. Next update is on the way! Review please! You all know how much I love them, haha. **

**- QLB.  
><strong>


	12. Because He Loved Her

**A/N: Okay here's the other half! Again I'm sorry for splitting it up, but it really was bothering me how much of an uneven transition it was.**

**Warning: Quasibelle fluffiness abounds in this chapter but I promise it's the last one. Things are going to get pretty serious soon from then on out, so prepare yourselves haha. Anyways I hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

><p>Chapter – 12<p>

Because He Loved Her

Two weeks.

It had been almost two weeks. Two whole weeks since she had been rescued by the hunchbacked bellringer. For two weeks she had drifted further and further from reality and into a world she had never known. And, for two weeks... Belle hadn't minded at all.

Every morning she would awaken to a rose waiting for her on her bedside table and a smile would immediately grace her lips. For, each time she saw the rose, she was reminded of how very much Quasimodo cared for her.

It was a curious thing really, to know that someone cared for her the way he did. What was even more curious was that she didn't back away from such an idea.

After she awoke each morning, she would normally wait within her room to hear Quasimodo ring the bells, then once he was done she would join him in the belfry and they would read a little together from her book.

In the times they weren't reading they were talking. It wasn't always about anything particular – just a bunch of things really, anything that came to the others' mind. One thing she was noticing more and more was that his stutter was beginning to slowly fade a little bit more each day. He was becoming more confident in his conversations with her as well as approaching her rather than waiting in the shadows.

Throughout the day, they would do ordinary tasks such as feed and care for the pigeons that called the tower their home. Quasimodo had gotten to a point where he would allow her to help him with his chores as well and Belle could tell that he appreciated her assistance. Though sometimes she delayed the process rather than sped it up due to the two of them occasionally playing little tricks on each other. He had had made it a habit of startling her by swinging out suddenly from under a bell when she was right on the other side; and she would just throw a polishing rag at him, playfully shove his shoulder, and run. Sometimes he'd chase her, sometimes he'd hide under another bell, wait for her to come back, and then surprise her all over again. Never had either of them thought chores could be that entertaining.

Another thing she enjoyed doing was sitting quietly at his side as he worked on his village. Due to her frequent presence, Quasimodo had created for her a makeshift stool similar to his own so that she would have somewhere to sit while he worked. Belle always found it so fascinating to watch that carving knife of his turn a piece of wood into something recognizable and lovely. It was also fascinating to watching _him_ while he worked. She remembered him saying that he had never seen such focus when he had watched her read, but Belle found that there was little in the world that could be more focused than Quasimodo when he whittled away. It was like he could see in his eyes exactly what he was making before his knife even touched the wood.

Nighttime was her favorite time however. At sunset he would take her up the bells and she would watch him ring them. She hadn't tried ringing them herself again since her last attempt about a week ago. But, she preferred it that way. In not ringing the bells, she was able to watch Quasimodo do what it was he had been raised to do. Watching a passionate person soar in their element was one of the most moving things to witness in the world, and her hunchbacked friend was no exception. It would move her so much that sometimes she would find herself spinning, twirling, and dancing around the belfry along with the chiming rhythms. It was as if the music influenced the very marrow within her body, stirring her bones, racing her heart, and embracing her soul.

After he would ring the Vespers, they would take a candle to the very top of the North Tower and just watch the world go on around them. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would remain completely silent and let their searching hearts do the talking.

In the darkness of the night with only candlelight and stars to see by, Quasimodo was more comfortable; his deformities were less prominent. In the darkness of the night, he wasn't afraid to touch her hand as much, or hold her gaze for more than a few seconds. In the darkness of the night, he was truly himself with nothing to hide or hide away from.

The more Belle spoke with Quasimodo, the more she grew to realize just how intelligent he truly was. In the aspects of living on the streets and being around other people, he was completely naïve – but when it came to seeing people for what they really were, the motives behind their actions, and seeing all the small things normally missed in everyday life… never had she seen one more brilliant.

Quasimodo had made a simple baby pigeon that she normally couldn't think less of seem the most beautiful thing in the world when it spread its wings to fly away for the first time. He took shapeless, rough wood and turned it into something of use or something special. He made the bells sound so ingeniously beautiful; it was one of the few times that Belle almost believed that a nonliving object could have a soul.

The more time she spent with him, the more Belle knew that, as with most of his actions and motives, there was for more to him than what the eye could see…

"…And they lived happily ever after. The…end," Quasimodo concluded, finishing the last page of the book. He remained silent and continued to just stare at the page, unbelieving that it was finally over. Subconsciously, he brushed at a small tear gathering at the corner of his right eye.

What a wonderful story. He smiled down at the book, but it faltered when a thought then came to him.

_Happily… ever after. _What did that mean exactly? What was the true power behind those simple words? Was it truly possible to be happy… forever?

He was distracted from his musings when he heard Belle give a wistful sigh to the left of him and place her hand on his arm. Quasimodo turned to look at her, noticing quickly that she looked as far away as he must have. The bellringer wondered then if she even realized that she had touched him.

"No matter how many times I read that story, the ending always impacts me the same way," she finally said.

"Yes… it's a good ending. One they rightfully deserved after going through all those trials," Quasimodo answered thoughtfully, his mind still not quite returning.

Belle could hear the distance in his voice and focused her gaze prominently on him.

"Are you sad that it's ended?" she asked then. She herself almost was. Belle had loved so much reading her story with him, seeing his reactions as he read everything for the first time. Now they had finished it and there were no other books to experience that same joy with.

He didn't say anything at first. In fact, he might as well have not even heard her. His mind was not yet wrapped around how it ended. Quasimodo was instead thinking of how _everything_ ended_._

Did… did he have to be some sort of Prince Charming to get his own happy ending?

"No. It's a beautiful ending. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I loved it very much," he answered truthfully though not completely.

It was not hard for Belle to see this at all and her hand on his arm soon moved to his shoulder.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

He suppressed a sigh, not wanting to ruin this moment for her, but not wanting to lie.

"Are happy endings only found in fairy tales?" he finally asked, realizing how foolish and naïve he sounded the minute the question left his lips. _Was that why they were called fairy tales as it was?_

Belle gave him a sad smile and shook her head.

"Happy endings are for anyone brave enough to go out and look for their own," she replied, her eyes wandering to the dying flame of the candle. Soon, once the sun was completely set, they would only have the stars and moon to see by.

"Like Prince Charming?" He questioned aloud the without thinking, immediately regretting it afterward. Quasimodo turned to face the other way, avoiding her gaze.

Belle looked up suddenly from the candle, her eyes landing on his peculiar form and narrowing as understanding reached her. Ah, so that's what this was about...

"In a sense. Those who are brave like him, devoted, and kind," she answered.

Quasimodo remained silent, though he did make a slight move indicating that he had been about to turn to face her again but held back.

"Only the evil find no happy endings. They may reach contentment, but it is only a pale shadow to what it could be if they were good. Evil knows no true happiness," she continued. Not only had she learned this from her books, but from what her Papa had told her in the past as well.

Her friend seemed to realize then that she understood they were no longer discussing 'Prince Charming', but rather his own insecurities.

Continuing to stare out into the dark blue sky, Quasimodo finally spoke.

"Do you think I was made for evil?" He couldn't help it. All his life he had been told that the gypsies were evil and to know that he came from them; and no matter who he was, how he acted, his face kept him from partaking in any of the simple joys of life. Was he meant to be evil as well? It might have seemed like a foolish question, but he genuinely pondered the truth behind his own purpose - if he even had one.

"No I do not," Belle answered firmly, her eyes not leaving his face despite him still not looking at her.

"Then-"

He stopped short when suddenly he felt Belle's hand on his cheek. Slowly he turned to face her, his eyes landing on hers and staying there – completely locked.

"Prince Charming is a fairy tale, Quasimodo. You are flesh and blood. You are real," she said then, her eyes piercing right through him, stripping him bare of anything he may have been suppressing.

Quasimodo said nothing and instead lifted his hand towards the one that rested on his cheek. Wordlessly, he held hers in his, the softest of smiles forming on his face.

"You are different, you are not normal. The world has been cruel to you – yet you still sit here kinder than anyone I've ever known. Your heart is beautiful. Your soul is beautiful…" her hand squeezed his, "Quasimodo- you are beautiful."

She felt as if she were getting a little repetitive in saying this to him, but she would not stop until he believed her. No matter how long it took.

He closed his eyes for a long time after that, not believing that he heard right but knowing that he had. Belle had for a long time been trying to convince him that his face did not matter… however this was the first time that she had called him beautiful. That _anyone_ had called him beautiful.

Quasimodo knew there were many words that could describe him. Beautiful was most certainly not one of them.

Thinking back on it, he remembered all the words that Master had said he would be referred to if he were to venture beyond the walls of sanctuary. Hideous. Frightful. Demon. Horrid. Disgusting. Ugly. Deformed. _Monster…_

Beautiful was as far from those words as the ground was from the sky.

"Belle…" he began, taking both her hands in his now, "_You_ are beautiful." He was trying to explain that he was nothing compared to her beauty.

She parted her lips to respond, but the look he gave her then made her close them. He clearly had more to say.

"Never have I been more aware of my ugliness than I am when I'm with you. You who are so fair, so… so lovely. And I… something frightful," he removed the hold he had on her hands… there was no way he was beautiful , "It makes me see how lucky I am… that it was you who I saved and not someone who would fear me as all others would-"

"And how would you know they'd fear you?" Belle interjected, unable to stand all that he was saying any longer, "Quasi… your worst flaw is not your face, but your belief that you are a monster. Because you believe what your master tells you, you do not even chance seeing for yourself if it is true."

He lowered his gaze, but kept listening even still as Belle continued.

"You think you have nothing special to give, but you do. Although you may not believe this, I have felt the same way. You and my Papa are the only ones who understand my love for reading. Everyone else thinks I'm odd and stays away from me or acts uncomfortable in my presence. But, I know they are wrong. I know I have so much to give to this world, and so do you," she said, finally almost reaching a conclusion after all that talking, "and if it weren't for who we both are… we never would have found each other…" That was something to be thankful for no matter what way it was looked at. _And I wouldn't have a friend…_

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, that Belle too was almost considered an outcast where she lived. No wonder she understood his pain. It almost didn't make sense though… she was just so beautiful – how could they possibly cruel?

And then he realized at last: _It wasn't always just about appearances._

Quasimodo remembered their discussion shortly after he had shown his face to her for the first time, when he had declared himself a monster.

_"I see no monster, I see a man. A man afraid of who he is. But, a man who has a beautiful mind and incredible talents that he could show the world should he ever find the courage to break out of his shell…"_

It felt to him that he was always despairing himself to her and she would never let him. Could he really believe her? Could he really believe that he was not a monster?

Master told him all his life that he would be viewed as nothing more or less no matter what he did – could he truly break away from what he had grown up believing? Perhaps, and he shuddered to think, Belle was right in saying what his master was doing was wrong.

His flaw _wasn't_ his _face_, but his _lack_ of _belief_ in _himself_…

What if he _did_ believe in himself?

The air was very silent then as Belle let Quasimodo reflect on all that she had told him. She knew for a fact that he was not brushing aside what she had said, but rather thinking deeply on it due to the far off, yet focused look in his turquoise eyes.

Belle looked down at her hands wondering if he would ever see. Other than how he viewed himself, Quasimodo was a positive person – being able to make a home for himself here in this cold tower, to find the beauty in the smallest of things… she could only hope that he would one day find the beauty within himself… that he would understand as he seemed understand so many other things that so many before him had never even thought about.

To her immense surprise she felt him suddenly reach out and place his hand at the side of her face, the roughness of his thumb raking lightly over her cheekbone while his fingertips held the back of her head, hesitantly snaking into her hair.

Hardly daring to breathe, Belle turned her gaze back to him.

"You are right," he said then in a breathless whisper full of clarity; his eyes soft but a strange emotion in them that she could not read. It seemed a collaboration of epiphany, grief, reluctance, and relief, "For no monster could ever earn the friendship... o-of an… angel like you." _And no monster could ever love as I do…_

He finally said it out loud. That he believed her to be an angel – or pretty close to one. Either way, she was a gift on this earth and should be treasured as such. There was no question.

There was no way that he could have said that to her a few days ago, he had been far too shy to speak his mind then… but something, and he didn't know what, was changing…

Belle's eyes glistened then as the candle finally went out and they only had the faint light of the setting sun to see by. All Quasimodo could see now though were her eyes staring right back into his, the appearing stars reflected by the millions within her endless pupils. He realized then with bewilderment that a tear had left her when he felt wetness collide with his hand upon her cheek.

Wordlessly, Belle wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close against her.

Quasimodo froze and went as rigid as one of his stone gargoyle companions, unsure of what was happening and still concerned by the tear he had seen. But as he felt the young woman's arms tighten around him, he found himself scooting closer and his own arms enclosing her, sheltering her against his chest as if he were a rock protecting the diamond within.

"For what everyone else is veered off by, I admire you for," he whispered then, past his own pain and now trying to focus on what Belle must have felt before he had saved her.

"You aren't afraid to be different no matter what anyone thinks and you are beautiful not just on the outside, but on the inside as well… and I care for you because of both." He pulled her a little closer, not believing he was telling her all of this. Everything he had kept inside him for so long... it was all pouring out and it was as if he could not stop it - and he did not want to.

Closing his eyes, Quasimodo rested his chin atop her head, his hand that was cradling the back of her skull beginning to twin soothing through her soft hair. This was not a mere hug. This was an _embrace_. He had read about it in the story that they read together. He was embracing this woman who had so suddenly just fallen into his world and changed his life… she was embracing him right back – and how that came to be he didn't think he would ever know.

He, who had thought that no woman would ever give even a single glance… was holding one in his arms.

Not knowing what else to do after a bit more time passed, he started trying to comfort her.

"Don't cry… p-please don't cry," he begged.

Belle pulled away from him then and he saw with relief that she was quite dry-eyed.

"I am not crying, Quasimodo… I am just relieved that you understand at last. For so long I wanted you to see that your differences were what made you so special, so unlike anyone I've ever met. No one else sees things as you do, or understands them – and that… is what makes you beautiful to me," she answered then, smiling up at his face. She decided to leave out the fact that she had also been moved to pieces when he called her an angel. Even though she had been called beautiful several times in her life... she could easily say that she had never been called... _that_. Not by anyone.

The thickness of the conversation they had just had hung heavily in the air, though neither spoke after that. Instead their eyes remained locked on each other, reading all that had not been said aloud.

Quasimodo never thought he understood the world more until that moment.

He was special. To her. He was beautiful. To her.

Somehow their hearts were both out in the open, beating, waiting.

Before either could say anything more, the faintest sounds of music began to drift up to the Bell Tower, Belle being able to hear it a bit more prominently than her hunchbacked companion. Both shared confused expressions and then moved to the edge of the tower and looked down onto the city.

To their surprise, through the crowds of people still going about their evening, they saw two gypsies and a pretty little goat far below them in the square. One gypsy was playing the lute, the other dancing freely about with the goat prancing gracefully around her feet. Belle immediately recognized Clopin as the one playing the lute.

"Oh! Clopin!" she gasped, a warm lurch lifting her stomach upon seeing the precarious yet kind gypsy man again – alive and well.

The bellringer looked at her curiously before returning his gaze back to the scene below them.

"Isn't it a little late for them to be performing? The sun is almost gone and all the stars are nearly out…" Quasimodo commented with concern, wondering what this strange behavior could mean. If they weren't careful, the guards would be after them faster than a moth to the flame.

Belle laughed softly, continuing to watch them.

"In the extremely short time I've known him I don't think we need to question the Gypsy King's motives. Whatever he does, he does for a reason," she replied, looking to see Quasimodo's eyes widened in surprise at realizing that he was the king of gypsies. Oh, what Master wouldn't do to get his hands on him…

His eyes continued watching the two almost hungrily; the man now having gotten up from his seated position and dancing around with the gypsy girl whilst still playing the lute.

"They always look so happy – like every day is one to celebrate," he commented.

Belle smiled.

"They do have something to celebrate – they are free."

Free to be themselves. Free to do as they pleased. Free… to live.

Immediately she felt that painful stab reminding her yet again of her own imprisonment here. No… not now, she would not think of that now. In an attempt to get her mind off of such negativity, Belle found herself impulsively grabbing both of Quasimodo's hands and pulling him up and further from the edge.

"Dance with me?" she half asked and half demanded. If the gypsies below could dance in celebration of freedom, then they could certainly dance up here in celebration of their friendship.

The look Quasimodo gave her then was near priceless and Belle had to use all her will power to hold back laughter.

"Wh-what?" he gasped, still keeping his hands in hers despite his shock.

"You heard me," Belle answered, swinging their arms side to side insistently.

The hunchback looked from her down to their entwined hands then down to his feet resting crookedly on the ground.

He was a _bellringer_… not a _dancer_.

"I-I-I can't," he replied nervously.

"Sure you can," Belle coaxed, a softness in her voice that he knew he would be unable to refuse.

Quasimodo gulped and looked back up at her. Oh he didn't know about this…

Without waiting for a response from him, Belle gently tugged on his arms and soon they were moving in slow circles. Quasimodo frequently looked down at her feet, trying to match the patterns they made with his own – this proving to be a little difficult do to one of his legs being slightly longer than the other.

However after a few spins he began to get the hang of it a bit more and was focusing more on her face rather than his feet. The fact that she looked so happy made this ridiculous thing he was currently partaking in worth doing.

Soon they picked up pace in their spinning and their moving about on the top of the tower, the rhythm of Clopin's fingers against the lute flowing with their steps.

Laughing, Belle released his hands and then moved forward, linking her arm with his and letting them circle each other a few times before coming out of the spin and grasping each other's hands again. Quasimodo was moving with a lot more ease now, though his foot placement was still quite cautious. Oh he prayed that he would not step on her tiny foot.

Soon enough, he began laughing as well, each spin causing him to feel more and more lighthearted and free.

Even as the music disappeared due to the guards chasing the gypsies off, the two continued their strange yet carefree dancing. Their rhythm now was their own beating hearts.

Their motions soon slowed though to simple swaying and Belle closed her eyes and leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his near shapeless shoulders. Quasimodo strained every muscle in his shaking legs to keep from them from giving out beneath him by the mere shock of how close they suddenly were again.

Belle had to smile as she felt her friend tense and then hesitantly wrap his own arms around her again as they continued to sway into the quiet night.

_My word, I really am falling for this man… _she thought to herself. Of all the people in her life, she had never imagined herself to be with someone like Quasimodo. Actually, she scarcely imagined herself being with anyone due to her practical nature and devotion to her Papa.

Yet as she thought on it now, thought on Quasimodo and the constant warmth of his hands, the extraordinary strength of his arms, the softness in his eyes, and the kindness in his heart…. She could easily say she could not see herself truly happy with anyone else.

He understood her on a level that she never believed anyone on this earth could. And, it was easy to say that he was definitely no Prince Charming in shining armor, but Belle found she liked him more because of that. For, here he was this poor boy – the world cruel and unfair to him and yet he remained genuine, kind, and true no matter what he had gone through… That was true nobility in her own opinion.

There was no mistaking how alarming his appearance was, but to her it was as if it wasn't there anymore – she had spent so much time around him that his differences seemed… normal.

Before she could think any further on the strange and heart racing subject, Belle found them coming to a halt. It was only then that she realized the music had stopped a while ago.

She playfully raised an eyebrow at him and dropped the grasp she had on one of his hands whilst still holding the other one.

"I told you that you could dance," she said then. True it had certainly been no ballroom waltz but when did either of them do anything that was the norm as it was?

Quasimodo laughed softly then, his eyes still heavily focused on her. Without saying anything, he reached towards her face with his free hand and tucked that piece of hair that always seemed to fall neatly over her forehead behind her ear

They both wordlessly turned towards the sky then, looking up at the shining stars that appeared to be little windows in the endless walls of heaven.

He wanted this moment to last forever. In this moment it seemed to him as if perhaps for the first time in his twenty years of existence… what he felt was returned.

Yet even though he just dared to dream of it, there was still a thick wave of doubt crashing against the corners of his mind like a dark wave.

"_They are free…"_

He had not forgotten those words that she had spoken and the brief look on her face shortly thereafter. How could she truly care for him when she was practically forced to do so thanks to her imprisonment? A caged bird could not fly… and a caged spirit could not love.

The fact that she was trying to be happy made it all the worst. She shouldn't have to _try_ to be happy… she should actually _be_ happy.

Oh he would do anything to give her such a thing… anything at all.

"Belle – are you happy?" he asked, unable to contain his quiet musings any longer.

She turned to look at him then, slight bewilderment in her eyes.

Before she spoke, she held his one hand in both of hers, her eyes searching his as if she were trying to understand what brought on such a question from him.

"Of course," she answered, "why would I not be?"

Belle appeared sincere with her answer and Quasimodo almost scolded himself for being too impulsive with his questioning, but he refrained.

"Your… freedom," he replied then.

Belle stiffened and Quasimodo guiltily knew he had struck a chord. But… it was the truth.

They remained silent then, both knowing what was about to be discussed but neither really wanting to talk about it.

It had to be done.

Belle spoke up.

"It's not my freedom I long for now, Quasi. Being here where I can be myself… that is the most free I've ever felt…." She paused.

"Then what is it?" he asked then as she had done when he had not wanted to talk earlier.

Belle sighed gently.

"It's my Papa… I'm so worried about him, every day I hope that he hasn't met the same fate that I almost did…"

She could hardly bear to picture her dear father cold, alone, and dying in a dark cell… It almost brought tears to her eyes just merely thinking about it. There was also the possibility that he was safe and at home too… she wouldn't know for sure until she checked.

Belle knew though she couldn't just waltz out the doors and go home… the guards would catch her in an instant. Even after her ankle healed, there had been no chance… the guards were everywhere, near every door, rounding up gypsies – and looking for her, she was sure of it.

Quasimodo was well aware of this as well. He could only look at her in sadness, wishing there was something he could do…

His eyes brightened suddenly.

But… there _was_ something. How had he not thought of it before!

He held his tongue though before speaking out. What he had in mind was dangerous… quite dangerous and probably not the best idea. But, Quasimodo knew that Belle could not stay up here for forever… he would have to let her go eventually… no matter how blissfully ignorant the time with her had been. It only was a matter of time before they both needed to face the truth of reality.

"I-I can help you get to him," he said then, a mixture of happiness and sickness wracking his heart as he watched her eyes spark hopefully, giving him her full attention.

"How?" she asked quickly.

"The guards are not usually behind the cathedral after sunset, there is a bridge across the Seine very near there – I could help you down to it and you could get away. Your ankle is clearly healed and if you are careful… y-you could go home without harm…."

Belle looked from him to the square below, torn. She was certain that they could have figured this out sooner… but the reason as to why they had chosen not to was obvious. Even though neither admitted it aloud… One did not want to be without the other. They had found a rare comfort in each other, a bond surpassing anything both had ever known before… they weren't ready to give it up.

But it looked like they would have to. Unless…

"And what about you? Are you to just stay here and continue to be alone? You are my friend Quasimodo… I can't allow that," she said then, unable to picture a life without him now that he was involved.

The bellringer looked uncomfortably down at his feet before hesitantly bringing himself to look back into her eyes.

"Belle, I cannot disobey my master… he has been kind to me, given me so much. He's only asked one thing of me in return – stay here under the Lord's protection. It would be wrong," he almost whispered.

"What is _wrong_ is you thinking that it's all right for him to keep you here like this," she replied, wondering how many times she would have to have this conversation with him. Quasimodo's master had his hooks in him so deep… she couldn't believe that even now after all this time, all that she had said, he was still letting his master's manipulation rule over everything else.

Quasimodo winced and looked away at what she just said, her words sending shame after his heart like a knife. As wonderful as running away with her sounded… he just knew that he could not throw away all that he had known, trusted, and loved his entire life for someone he had known for barely two weeks. Even though she told him he was 'beautiful', 'special', 'unique', he still knew that he did not belong with someone like her… Someone so lovely… she deserved a knight in shining armor despite what she said. He would just plague her life. This stone nest was where he was meant to be – and as much as he wished it weren't so… he knew he did not belong in her world.

At Quasimodo's silence, Belle placed her hand on his shoulder, turning him to face her again.

"Quasi… will you ever see? You understand the world so completely and yet you overlook the most important detail in your life of all… Your master is not what is keeping you up here…"

The hunchback sighed sadly and closed his eyes. His heart and stomach clenched painfully as he realized that she was right. He was afraid. Afraid of the world. Afraid of his master's wrath Afraid of rejection. … he was afraid… And, he always would be afraid.

That, just like his face, would never change.

"I'm… sorry," he murmured, leaning into her touch for a moment before reaching up and placing his own hand over hers at his shoulder.

Belle fought back tears. She was not going to give up.

"I wish I could say I understand… but I don't," she replied then, retracting her hand after a minute longer.

They both remained quiet again after this, wishing so much to tell the other what it was that was in their heart, but having no way to do so.

Finally, Quasimodo exhaled softly and shook his head.

"We should probably start moving," he said, knowing that the longer he waited, the harder it would be to say goodbye.

He then knelt down and picked up Belle's book, beginning to hand it to her.

The young woman shook her head and took a step back.

"No. Keep it," she said.

Quasimodo looked at her in bewilderment.

"B-but it's your favorite book," he almost exclaimed. What was she thinking?

Belle smiled gently and nodded.

"I know. I want you to look after it for me. I'll come back for it...afterwards," she said, not liking how that sounded, but knowing it was true. It gave her another reason to come back to Quasimodo after she found her papa… and try and persuade him again to come with her.

The hunchback swallowed hard, not at all liking how that sounded either. It made it sound as if she were walking towards her death sentence… yet with how the situation was with the soldiers after her for her arrest… she might as well have been.

He could not help what happened next.

Setting the book back on the ground, Quasimodo softly heaved a broken sob and pulled Belle to him, crushing her against him and yet still the surprising action managed to remain gentle.

Her eyes widened at the sudden embrace, but she did not hesitate wrapping her arms around his neck again and pressing her face to his shoulder. Warmth. That was all that ran through her mind when she was this close to him. A warmth she had just been starting to notice. A warmth she would desperately miss.

"If something happened to you… i-it would kill me…" he whispered then in her ear, holding her closer and trying hard to suppress his tears that seemed so very determined to fall.

Belle smiled painfully against his tunic and pulled away.

"Nothing will happen to me, Quasi," she said in reassurance, patting his arm.

He tried to return her smile and could just barely bring himself to do so – he felt as if his face was cracking and shattering from the effort.

He took her hand then that rested on his arm and began to lead her to the edge.

"Come. We must hurry," he said, knowing that time was of the utmost importance.

Belle allowed him to guide her until they got the very edge where he picked her up as effortlessly as ever.

Before he jumped, he just simply held her there for a moment; looking down at her while she returned his stolen glance. He didn't know why he had paused, perhaps to have just a moment longer to himself of holding her close to him, feeling her presence. He had known this day was to come and he had expected the pain that it would inflict. Yet it was cutting him deeper than he had ever imagined it would.

Once more he was reminded of those injured birds that he would tend to. Even they flew away eventually. Belle was to be no different.

But he had to do it. He had to let her go. He had to it for her. Because she needed to be free. Because she needed to find her Papa. Because he loved her.

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><p><strong>AN: Hmmm a little BatBish ending but that's okay. At least he admitted it to himself! Ugh, does Quasi ever need a wake up call or what? Yes, it's frustrating but there's no way he'd just so suddenly drop everything and go with her. Despite this story being so heavily influenced by Disney I figured that I should keep that sort of aspect real. Plus it's a part of the ever anticipated plot - which is surely taking off next chapter!**

**Hope you guys weren't disappointed! Please review, they help so much with my getting this up here faster. **

**Until next update!**

**-QLB  
><strong>


	13. Down Once More

**A/N: Hey everyone! I apologize enormously for the wait. I really do need to shake this monthly updating streak... Please do enjoy.  
><strong>

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><p>Chapter – 13<p>

Down Once More

His foot met the cold stone of the exterior of the cathedral as he made his slow and careful descent. Even though he had so freely frolicked about up here with her before, now he handled his precious cargo with the utmost care; his movements even and calculative.

And so for the second time in his life, Quasimodo found himself going down once more to the world below. While this was normally supposed to be a moment of fluttering excitement for him, the bellringer could not shake the overwhelming feeling of growing dread that wrenched at his very core. Little did he know that Belle silently felt the very same thing.

Neither dared speak of it; it was as if they both feared that talking aloud of what they felt would only make it real. Deep down though, they both knew it would not matter either way. Only the eye of the Lord could foresee what was to become.

Quasimodo was screaming at himself in his head to say something – anything to her. It was as if his mouth could not form the words, a lump steadily growing in his dry throat. Belle too was having trouble voicing what she knew she really wanted to say. It was almost driving her mad – for so long she had been able to say almost anything to him the moment the thought came to her mind. Now, when it seemed most important to speak with him, her thoughts were scattered, intertwining with each other but never joining.

The silence was not a comfortable one either, it was strained and crushing. It brought on a wave of uneasiness to both of them.

All Quasimodo could find in himself to do was revel in how close he was to her, the feel of her arms wrapped around his neck and her head pressed to his shoulder; he wasn't sure if he would ever know such a touch again once she was gone. He just had to keep telling himself that she would return. She had said she would. He believed her.

As he dropped from parapet to statue, he tried to concentrate very hard on his faith in her and how he knew that she would be back. He did not see how this could be, but he trusted that Belle would find a way. While most of him knew his loyalties lay with the church and his master, he could not help but both wonder and yearn for what life might be like if he were to go with Belle, go to this home of hers in Versailles.

He remembered she had said it was dull, boring, and suffocating, but the thought of living somewhere out in the open where one could come and go as they pleased – it sounded most invigorating to him… especially when he thought of living such a life with Belle nearby...

Quasimodo almost had to physically shake his head to rid himself of the thought. No. He mustn't.

He was meant to live here, remain here. He had promised to ring the bells.

But… he had been completely alone until now. Of course that wasn't the case if he counted his friends, the grimacing stone gargoyles. But even he knew that Belle's company was better suited. Someone _alive_ other than his master cared for him, someone who he never imagined could.

His thoughts were all mixed up and it was enough to near drive him mad.

All his life he rarely felt what he knew now to be confliction. He had been told simply to stay in his tower and he had abided by that rule. It wasn't until Belle had come into his life that he really begun to question the true meaning behind what he was told to do. She wanted him to go with her… to flee Paris. Oh the very thought! He knew he could never leave this place. Notre Dame. His home. His nest. His sanctuary. His… prison. It was where he belonged.

Belle belonged to the air, the sky, the earth. She was meant to be free. His little bird that would fly away. She would go on adventures – he knew she would. He… he belonged to stone. Stone did not move, stone did not change. And stone certainly was not meant to be free.

Quasimodo felt a stinging pressure behind his eyes and he recognized it immediately as the threat of tears. Oh Belle did not need to see him like this! A small strangled noise left his throat as he made an attempt to clear it and push back those persistent tears. To his relief, the pressure subsided and he was left now only with his heart that ached for her. He knew that he could only hold back the dam for so long, but he could do it for now, he could let go when he was alone in the shadow of his Grand Marie. For now, he had to be strong.

He worried that if Belle saw him about to break, she would continue insisting that he go with her and Quasimodo was not sure how much more of seeing her disappointment he could take. He had thought disappointing master was the worst thing that could happen, but seeing someone as pure and wonderful as Belle that way… it was far worse.

The hunchback felt Belle's arms around his neck tighten slightly. He wondered then if she could sense what it was that he was feeling, or if perhaps she had gotten scared that she might fall and needed a more reassuring grip. Quasimodo almost had to smile. She should know by now that he would _never_ allow her to fall.

He was wrong though.

Belle did not tighten her hold on him to bring him comfort or even to grip more for better support; no she felt quite safe where she was at in his arms, in fact... she couldn't imagine a place more safe.

The inner turmoil of her thoughts had been what lead her to do such actions. She could not help but wonder to herself if it was truly awful that a strong part of her heart yearned to continue staying up in that tower with Quasimodo.

How could she possibly be that selfish though? She had her papa to worry about. He had to of been worried sick about her – and the fact that she had not seen him while looking out on the village whilst in Notre Dame only unnerved her of his well-being further. Once she got back to their rented cottage and saw for herself that he was going to be all right, then she could worry more about her situation with her special friend.

She was not going to take no for an answer. The thought of Quasimodo remaining alone up in that tower for the rest of his days brought a sickness in her heart. It was something she could not and would not allow. But, this was something she would have to take up with him later. Right now he was concentrating on getting them safely to the ground. And, Belle knew it would be easier to navigate to her cottage if there was only one of them. Even so, in the far corner of her mind she worried of something happening that would hinder her from seeing him again. Belle refused to dwell on this too much – it just could not be an option. She would get to where she needed to be, she would find her papa, and she would come back for Quasimodo. It was as simple as that.

To both their dismay, Quasimodo reached the statue at the very base of the cathedral.

Even when his movements stilled, neither dared say anything; nor even do anything for that matter. They knew…they both knew that the minute they did something other than remaining perfectly still, that it would be time to say good bye. And for all Quasimodo knew, despite Belle's faith that it would be otherwise, he might never see her again after this night.

There was no amount of time that could pinpoint exactly how long they stayed as they were; silent and frozen like the statues around them – but eventually the sound of the distant voices of the guards reached Belle and she finally lowered herself from her perch on her friends back.

She rested beside him then and Quasimodo turned his face to look at her.

As soon as their eyes met, she threw her arms around his neck without a trace of hesitation this time and hugged him close. Quasimodo himself took a lot less time to react like he had before and quickly wrapped his own arms around her, folding her to his powerful form. She felt so soft in his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her earthly floral and grain scent. The bellringer felt her shoulders shake a few times and he realized with a slight uncomfortable drop of his gut, that she was trying just as hard not to weep as he was.

In an effort to comfort her, he ran his hand timidly up her back a couple times, not really understanding why he had and ready to pull his hand away the minute she showed discomfort of any kind. But, she didn't – if anything she held on to him a little tighter before releasing her hold then completely.

Quasimodo felt his arms fall limply at his sides and he dropped his gaze to the ground, wanting to look into her lovely face, memorize its every detail just one more time; but he feared seeing the pain in her eyes that he knew would be there… and he feared letting her see too much of his own introverted torture.

Knowing that they had only seconds of stolen time left, Belle reached out and took his hands one final time.

This action brought Quasimodo to look at her again. And, just as he knew he would, he saw the pain that was in her eyes. He would have done anything he could to erase such a look, but he knew that it was near impossible being as how he was the source of most of that hurt.

"You must go," he managed to whisper frantically, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

Belle swallowed hard and nodded. This was it.

A strong, blazing look entered her eyes then and Quasimodo could only imagine what it was she was about to say.

But… it wasn't what she said. It was what she _did_.

Without warning, she moved forward and Quasimodo went completely rigid as her soft, rose petal lips rested against his cheek for a brief moment. The kiss lasted for little more than a second and after she pulled away, it might have not even happened if it weren't for the burning sensation he felt after wards.

She lowered her head and closed her eyes. Quasimodo, trembling slightly, just looked at her, unable to bring himself to say anything – thoughts wouldn't even manifest themselves fully in his mind. Shock was all he felt.

Had that just happened? Had that really happened?

Had he just been kissed by an angel?

"B-Belle?" he asked then, finding her sudden stillness quite disturbing. She needed to go!

Her eyelids flickered in acknowledgment first before she lifted her head again and looked at him fully. This was even harder than she had imagined it to be. She was saying goodbye to her only friend.

"Do not forget me, Quasimodo. I _will_ comeback. I promise."

That sad smile he gave her then was enough to send her heart breaking a hundred times over.

"I could never forget you," he reassured, looking over his shoulder again anxiously. Guards could appear at any time now. Even though he wished for this moment with her to last longer, Quasimodo knew that she absolutely had to leave this very second.

She nodded then, knowing he was right.

"Belle… go," he pressed, sensing her hesitation and knowing she would regret it if she did not leave now when the opportunity had presented itself so clearly tonight.

Shaking her head, she began to stand, about to maneuver her way down to the ground just a few feet below her. She stopped one last time to look at her friend. While she did not want to remember him this way, sad and full of regret – she just could not bear the thought of leaving him without one last glance.

Belle managed to allow a true smile to grace her features then and her eyes grew immensely soft.

"I will see you soon," she said confidently before turning and sliding the rest of the way down.

The minute her feet hit solid ground, she could have sworn she felt immediate disconnection from the cathedral… from Quasimodo.

Trying to rid such a thought from her mind, Belle focused her gaze forward towards the direction she would be headed. Without waiting a second more, she began to swiftly run, keeping to the shadows.

She did not look back.

The somber hunchback however watched her go – and in that instant he felt his heart shatter then, the pieces flying off to follow her, staying with her always.

Still frozen with shock, only the slight trembles from his arms were the indications that he himself was not a statue a part of Notre Dame.

Only one thought kept playing over and over in his mind as if it were just one small circuit.

She was gone. She was really gone.

His cheek still burned with the bitter sweetness of the kiss he still could not believe she had given him. He felt hope then. Belle would be all right. She would come back. She just had to.

Belle would go to her cottage, she would find her father and they would pack, and then they would leave. She would be safe. Even if she had said she would come back though… she was still going to disappear again in the long run.

As long as he knew that she would be safe though, that would be enough for him. Forget his own poor shadows. Forget his own loneliness. His home was not meant for her. Belle would be free and he would be loyal to his master once more, not longer having to hide anything from him or be dishonest.

Despite his grief over having to say goodbye, it did give the bellringer some sense of relief as he thought about how he would not be disobeying his master any longer. He would be good just as he had promised him he would be. And… now that she was gone, Master would never even have to know.

It stirred his heart uncomfortably to think that he would still be keeping something from him – but it would be better that way. He had been nothing but honest with Master in the past. Quasimodo had only done what he thought was right.

Even though she had melted into the darkness long ago, he still continued to stare off into the direction she disappeared; as if he hoped that at any moment she would emerge once again.

Quasimodo knew this was not likely though. It would take her a while to get back to her cottage being as how she would have to move slowly and calculatedly so as to not alert the guards on patrol of her presence. And then there would be the matter of packing away all that she and her father had brought with them to Paris. Yes, it would take a while. Much too long… But, he knew all he could really do in this situation was hope.

Hope. And pray to Mary.

With a little shake of his massive head, Quasimodo turned and began the journey back up to his home in the tower. He moved slower than her normally would have, but he was very much distracted by the thoughts that kept flashing and dancing around in his head.

It was well past midnight by the time he reached the belfry, but that made no difference to Quasimodo. Time really held no meaning for him up here. The only thing that constantly kept him aware of it was the fact that he used to chime Emmanuel every hour. That became almost near impossible for him to do however with Belle here. He realized then with a lurch that that would no longer be the case anymore…

Quasimodo swallowed hard and tried to continue keeping his focus on the hope.

But, once she had crossed his mind again, the dam broke and two, thick droplets of tears made trails on each of his cheeks as they fell.

His eyes landed on the two figurines that were next to each other on his Notre Dame square miniature. Ever since Belle had moved them together, he had not touched them. Something about the way his figurine stood out in the open next to hers just looked so right to him. If it had been a couple days ago, he could not explain why that was. But… the bellringer knew now. Oh, he knew it with every fiber of his being.

He loved her. He was sure of it.

The hunchback had hardly known what love was. He knew what it meant to love the Lord – but this was so very different. What had made him fully understand what it was that he felt now was the fairytale he had read with Belle. One of the main themes had been to love and be loved in return.

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what he felt for Belle now was love. How could it not be? Quasimodo had spent over two weeks in her presence. Only talking to her, only listening to her… only thinking of her. The fact that she was gone now just as he realized his own feelings tore at his heart – but he knew he mustn't despair. When there was love, there was faith. And with all he had been through, Quasimodo was one of the most faith driven people there ever was.

The moon came out from behind the clouds then and slipped in through the openings in the belfry. The light hit him softly and the lonely hunchback directed his gaze towards the sky, the tears in his eyes glistening. It was getting late – but Quasimodo knew very well that he would not be sleeping any time soon.

With a gentle sigh, he ran a hand through his tangled red hair.

"Be safe, _mon ange_," he murmured.

* * *

><p>It was as if a complete, dead calm had shrouded the entire city of Paris in a smothering blanket. In the short time that she had lived here, Belle could never remember it being this quiet before. Though she figured it would end up this way considering she was trying to sneak past any guards that still might be looking for her. Belle wanted to think that this was unlikely, but considering someone had actually ordered her arrest – the guards would surely take her in the moment they laid eyes on her.<p>

She moved extremely carefully, always keeping her back pressed up against something so she would not have to keep switching her gaze around. Belle did not dare venture out from the shadows. They were her only hope of keeping her out of view from anyone that might be looking for her.

Twice already she had had a near run in with a soldier and had just managed to dodge around a different corner of a cottage before the light of his torch could reach her.

It was as if her hearing was twice what it normally was. Belle felt as if she could almost hear _everything_; from the shift of the wooden cottages against the slight breeze, to the gentle waves of the Seine lapping up against the thick stone walls surrounding it.

While this seemed a good thing to her, it also made any mistake she made, any pebble she accidentally kicked seem so much louder and resonating than it had ever been before. Every time even a slightly louder noise sounded off around her, Belle's heart would leap up into her throat and pound furiously in her head.

This happened even now as the sound of footsteps reached her. Belle froze, her eyes desperately shifting through her surroundings to find a place to hide. She spotted a barrel a few feet away and immediately dove behind it, pulling it slightly so that her back could also be sheltered by the wall of the building behind her.

Holding her breath, she waited.

The footsteps continued to get closer and closer until they quite abruptly stopped all together. Belle fought the urge to peek out from behind the barrel, knowing that that would only lead to disaster if she were spotted.

She remained completely still – just waiting. The fact that they had just stopped out of nowhere meant that they had not left… Oh how her heart just continued to throb in her ears. Belle was beginning to wonder if whoever was out there could even hear it.

"Who are we hiding from, _ma chère_?"

Before she could even gasp, a spidery, black gloved hand gently closed over her mouth. Immediately Belle's eyes darted to the left where she had heard the whisper.

Relief warmed her blood when she realized that it was none other than Clopin Trouillefou who was crouched beside her behind the barrel. Belle could easily say she was glad to see the gypsy.

"Clopin! What are you doing here?" she whispered excitedly.

"I could very well ask the same of you," he replied, "you forget, I rule Paris when the sun goes down."

Belle nodded her head to indicate that she remembered quite well that he was the king of truants.

"I'm trying to find my Papa… and leave here as soon as possible," she answered then.

"Coincidental. I am looking for someone as well. We were separated after those guards so charmingly interrupted our little performance. I know she's quite capable of handling herself, but she hasn't come home yet. "

Her eyes brightened as she remembered seeing said performance from above… while she and Quasimodo had danced.

"I saw you from Notre Dame," she said then and Clopin gave her a knowing glance.

"Ah, so that's where you've been all this time. I wondered what ever became of you after our lovely time spent together in the dusty tunnels inside the walls of Paris," he said with a bit of a playful glint in his eyes.

"Yes it was the only place I could be without getting arrested. Sanctuary, you know," Belle replied, finding herself strangely missing the cathedral.

Clopin nodded in understanding. Though Sanctuary had never ended well for any of his people. It was well known fact that one of a gypsy's biggest weakness was being cut off from their freedom.

A thought struck Belle that perhaps Clopin, knowing the ins and outs of this city probably better than anyone might be able to tell her of a short cut she might be able to take to get to her father faster without being detected.

"Do you know a faster way through here?" she asked then, peeking momentarily around the barrel to see if there was an approaching torch lights indicating that a guard was nearby. It was completely black out here a part from the bright glint in Clopin's mischievous eyes.

To her surprise, the gypsy shook his head.

"Unfortunately, you are in what we call the dead zone of Paris. Do to this place being so close to the Seine, there are no tunnels beneath us, and not enough walls to make for secret passages," he replied, annoyance evident in his voice. Belle had a feeling that because of Clopin's crowd-pleasing nature, he did not like to disappoint.

She somberly nodded her head.

"That's all right. I suppose I'll just continue my original method," she said, her heart sinking a little as she realized she still had ways to go before she could make it to her destination. Having a run in with the guards was looking more and more likely all the time.

He raised an eyebrow.

"And that is?"

Belle smiled and shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"Not getting caught?" she asked, realizing how ridiculous that sounded - but it was true...

Clopin returned her smirk.

"Ah, a method I use all the time," he replied then.

She tried to suppress her giggle.

A brief moment of silence surrounded them as they both listen again for anything that might be an approaching threat.

It was then that the gypsy spoke a little while later.

"You'll do fine, chérie. I can create a diversion if you'd like," Clopin said then, earning a look of surprise from her.

"But don't you fear getting caught?" she asked, well aware that he was a wanted name among the guards. If they were so against gypsies… then the gypsy_ king_ was surely a main target of theirs.

Clopin gave her mocking stunned look. Part of the fun of being outside the law, was making fools out of those imbecile guards – and he would not miss a chance on that.

"And do you think they call me the Gypsy King for nothing?" he asked.

Belle laughed softly and smiled at the prideful gypsy. However said look faded when all of a sudden, she could hear the sound of approaching hoof beats. Peeking her head around for the second time, her heart turned to ice when she could see an unmistakable torchlight beginning to creep around the corner.

She turned then to face Clopin, but discovered that he was no longer beside her. In fact, he was nowhere in sight. Puzzled, Belle's eyes shifted around a few times to see if she could spot him anywhere, but found that she could not. The gypsy man had completely vanished.

The girl waited, completely alone; though she wouldn't be alone for long seeing as how those hoof beats kept getting closer… and closer.

Without warning, a loud, crackling _boom _sounded off what seemed a few blocks away from her.

"What in the blazes!" a voice called out.

"Check the alley! It came from there!"

The sounds of rushed footsteps and hoof beats filled the air again, but Belle noticed this time that they were moving _away _from her.

Belle looked out from behind her hiding place again and spotted the sight of what looked like purple, glittery smoke rising to the sky a few cottages away.

A smile immediately reached her face and she had to hold her hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Clopin?" she whispered.

No response.

Deciding to take this situation to her advantage, Belle carefully stood from her spot behind the barrel and walked out into the open.

"Good luck to you again, chérie. Make haste; they'll be back here before too long," Clopin's seemingly disembodied voice whispered.

Belle swiveled her head around in an attempt to spot him, but it was useless. She was sure the mysterious gypsy was already gone by now.

She almost found herself crying out for him not to leave her alone, but she was able to stop herself. That would just end up working against her. He had given her this window of opportunity – it was best she take it.

"Thank you..." she whispered then, not even sure if he could hear her now.

With that said and done, Belle began to set off once more, sticking to the shadows like before.

Any noise the filled the air around her caused her to freeze up. Ever since her attack in front of Notre Dame, she was very paranoid about being out here by herself at this time. Belle knew that Quasimodo would not be here to protect her this time. Clopin had done all he could for her; it was all on her now.

So far, so good though.

Belle realized now that she was probably about half way there.

The trip had not seemed as long when the sun had been out and she had had her book to read and keep her occupied; now it seemed to be taking an eternity.

The sound of something snapping reached her ears and Belle whipped her whole body around to see what it was. She could not see through the darkness what exactly it was, but she kept on looking as she walked backwards.

This was probably not a good idea for her eyes were not able to see the abandon cart in front of her... at least, not until she backed up right into it.

The crash that followed was perhaps the loudest noise she had ever heard; and Belle knew this was only because she just knew that the guards heard it too. The brittle cart toppled over and hit the wall behind it, sliding down the stone creating a shattering screeching noise, and then it inevitably hit the ground, a loud thud echoing throughout the seemingly abandoned streets.

Belle just completely froze, almost as if she could not believe that that had happened, that she had been so stupid.

"Did you hear that, Captain?"

"Yes. I'll take a look, remain at your post."

"All right, Sir."

Despair filled her. The _captain _was coming.

Once more Belle looked around for another place to hide, but could find nothing except for the shadows some of the cottages made under the moonlight.

The sound of the captain approaching seemed to be coming in all directions.

Heart pounding, Belle decided that her best option was to simply run.

And so… she did just that.

Unfortunately for her as she rounded the nearest corner, she came face to face with the Captain-of-the-Guard upon his steed.

Belle gasped and backed up a couple steps just as the horse reacted as well, it letting out a disturbed snort and shifting his hooves a few times.

"Achilles, heel!" the captain commanded, pulling on the stallion's reins.

It was then that he looked over Achilles's head and locked eyes with the frightened girl staring up at him.

He recognized her instantly do to the description given to him by the guards that had been searching for her for a while; and the fact that she was out well past midnight only confirmed his suspicion that this was the girl wanted for arrest.

Belle bit fiercely at her lip, almost drawing blood. This was it, there was no hope – not when the captain had her cornered like this. A wild idea of simply brushing past him and running like mad filled her head, but Belle knew that was not practical – she was more likely to get herself killed doing that.

Phoebus de Chateaupers just stared down at her, his mind racing at what to do. The _right_ thing to do would be to follow orders and arrest her, but what he _should_ do was let her get away – there was no mistaking her innocence.

"Anything there, Captain?" a rough voice echoed a few blocks down.

Phoebus looked over his shoulder for a moment in the direction the man had called.

Belle found this very strange behavior; it was not right for a guard to take his eyes off of someone they were about to arrest… was he perhaps new?

The captain turned back to look at her.

"I hope you can run fast," he whispered.

What he said was so unexpected, Belle almost did not believe she had heard him right.

"I didn't see anything; there are foot prints in the dust leading east. I'd say take a look over there," he said, ordering the guards to go in the complete opposite direction that the girl was headed.

She continued to look up at him in utter disbelief. Had he really just-?

"Th-thank y-"

"_Go_," he hissed urgently and with that he wheeled Achilles around and sent him in a canter after the other guards.

Belle did not need telling twice. She took off at a full run the second the captain had told her to do so.

Cottages and covered carts whipped past her in a blur. At this point it almost didn't matter how much noise she was making, she just wanted to get _home_.

Adrenaline pulsed fiercely through her and Belle found herself going even faster, as if she had wings on her feet.

Hardly even thinking about it, she ran down roads, ducked around corners, and dodged a few more carts or wagons left in the middle of the streets.

To her utter relief, the sight of their rented cottage eventually came into view and grew steadily closer as she ran towards it. It had seemed as if the odds were in her favor in getting her to her Papa safely. Maybe... just maybe everything would be all right now.

She finally came to a stop in front of it, panting heavily. Belle's heart thundered in her chest and continued to do so as she looked up at the building. There was no sign that life resided from within. No candle in the window. But, Belle knew that it was late and there was a very high chance that her Papa was in bed.

But… deep inside, she knew that something was not right.

As she went inside the cottage, she did not see the sight of a dark figure jump on his horse and ride off into the shadows.

The place was pitch black and Belle tried not to be too disturbed by this. It was very late after all.

_He's asleep. Papa is only sleeping. _She thought desperately to herself, knowing that she would only know for sure once she called out for him. But… she was almost afraid to do so.

Realizing that she was being silly, Belle shook her head and cleared her throat.

"Papa?" she called into the darkness, heading towards the stairs.

There was no answer.

_He's just in a deep sleep. He is surely up there now… it will take him a moment to awaken…_

Belle still remained hopeful as she began to make her way up the stairs.

"Papa?" she tried again.

Still no response.

A shroud of doubt began to blanket itself over her still drumming heart.

She would have heard him stir by now…

Even so, Belle continued moving towards his bedroom. When she reached the door, she stood in front of it for a moment, hesitating.

It was as if she already knew that he wouldn't be behind it.

Carefully she pulled it open and looked inside.

It looked as if he had not been there for days. His bed was completely made, his clothes were all folded on the wooden dresser by the window, and the un-lite candle by his window was untouched – just as it had been the day they moved here.

Belle swallowed hard… it was as if a knife had splintered its way into her stomach, twisting around in her guts..

Wh-Where was he?

But… she already had an idea and oh how she hoped she was wrong.

Another thought then occurred to her and her eyes widened.

"Philippe!" she exclaimed her poor horse's name out loud.

In one quick move, she whipped around and made her way down the stairs as fast as possible. Everything rushed past her in a blur again as she passed through the living area of the cottage and out the front door.

It seemed to take her forever to get to the stable. When she threw open the door and the moonlight spilled in, she saw that there was no horse from within.

He had been stolen. It was the only conclusion she could make.

Belle let out a breath she had been holding. At least wherever he was he was being cared for – or rather, she'd like to hope so. Her best bet was that the gypsies had taken him. They were often in need of horses with all their caravans and wagons and how much they traveled.

That still didn't solve her first and biggest problem.

Papa.

Belle could only assume the worst: That he had been arrested just as she had almost been.

But… _why_?

What had they honestly done?

All she could really think of was her father's greatest invention… but how was that even remotely offensive?

So many questions kept rushing through her mind. But, she knew that she was not going to get anywhere just asking things to herself repeatedly. Belle would have to take action if she wanted to get her Papa and go home.

There was always the possible chance that he was just out looking for her with Philippe, but she almost immediately dismissed the thought. It was clear by the dust that had gathered in their cottage and the way his bed had had no indent that no one had been around here in quite some time – two weeks… Unless he had gotten into some trouble...

If he had in fact been arrested – then where had they taken him? Her best bet was the place she had overheard as being called the Palace of Justice. If she could recall, she had seen the Palace of Justice directly across from Notre Dame the many times she and Quasimodo had gone and looked out over the beautiful city.

The odds were very much against her now. It wasn't like she could just waltz into the place and demand her papa's freedom… she too was a fugitive.

She would need help.

Right away she thought of Quasimodo – but, why this was she did not know. It wasn't as if he could really be much help to her. He had never left Notre Dame… She figured that he had just naturally come up first in her thoughts because he was her closest friend. But… unfortunately he just was not an option.

It was then that her thoughts danced around the idea of finding Clopin again. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that that probably was not a good idea either… Even though he had helped her twice, that didn't mean he'd be so willing to completely risk his neck by heading into the Palace of Justice with her – he barely knew her… Of course there was the thought of rallying all the gypsies… but that was not likely. And, Belle realized then that she did not have a chance at finding them at all.

If the gypsies did not want to be found, they would not be. It was as simple as that.

She might have known a few of their tricks thanks to Clopin, but her limited knowledge was nothing compared to their born whit and street smarts.

Belle sighed. Oh what could she possibly do?

One thing was for sure, she was not going to just stand here. The idea of standing around while such evil was possibly happening was more than she could bear. But even as she walked from the stable back towards the cottage, she did not feel much better about it.

The only conclusion that she could come to was to simply wait at the cottage overnight and then once morning came, she could try looking for her father in the daylight. There was still a chance that he hadn't been arrested.

And if he had…

As she walked back into the cottage and shut the door behind her, Belle's thoughts momentarily glossed over that one soldier who had let her go…

What if she found him tomorrow and explained the situation? He had been called captain… he would surely have power wouldn't he?

Such an idea was very risky… just because he had let her go tonight didn't mean he would be so likely to do it again…

But, at this point, Belle honestly did not see what other choice she had.

Right now she was just trying to remain calm and weigh her options, but that was proving to be increasingly difficult.

Perhaps sleep was the best thing for her, give her a chance to clear her head and gain back some strength – but she couldn't possibly sleep; she knew she was fooling herself with that notion.

There was no harm in trying though… it wasn't as if she could leave this place; not right now any way.

Belle looked around the empty house; it almost felt as if she was in a tomb. It was so solemn, dark and lifeless…

Her thoughts froze the minute she thought she heard footsteps approaching.

Belle swung her head in the direction of the door. Was it her Papa? She hardly dared to speak out loud.

There was no other sound after that then and she realized with dismay that is probably just gust of wind. Belle covered her face and found herself sitting on the floor. Never before in her entire life had she felt so… limited.

Before she could go any further with feeling sorry for herself, the door lurched forward slightly with a loud bang.

Belle jerked her hands away from her face and looked towards the door. What on earth…?

A second bang sounded off and the door went snapping forward, hitting the ground roughly.

She was then met with the sight of five guards standing outside, glaring in at her.

"There she is! Don't just stand there, take her, men!" One of them cried, and before she even had a prayer of going an inch in an attempt to escape, two of the five rushed in, each grabbing one of her arms.

"Let go of me!" she cried, knowing it was useless. This couldn't be happening! It just couldn't!

Yet somehow in the very pit of her heart… she had known that it would.

"Shut up!"

Something very hard knocked powerfully into the back of her head with a dull thud and Belle found the world around her fading to black rather abruptly.

When the girl was slumped forward, completely unconscious, the guards proceeded to drag her out from the cottage, looks of devious victory plastered on their unattractive faces.

A few candles had been lite in the surrounding homes as the villagers from within, disturbed by the noise, arose to investigate what it was that was occurring.

"Nothing to see here!" The guard that had struck Belle with the bottom of his spear, Jean, called out, "go back to bed!"

When they had dragged her to where their horses stood waiting, Yvon took her limp body and draped it over his steed before climbing on himself. He kept her body between the horse's neck and his own form sitting atop the saddle.

"It's about time," he stated, slight relief in his voice. He had begun to grow quite fearful of Frollo and his growing anger at not having her captured. Thankfully that would soon change. Jean and the other guards nodded in agreement.

Once all the guards had mounted their steeds, they were just about to take off when someone suddenly called out behind them.

"Halt!"

Turning to look, the five of them spotted the Captain-of-the-Guard approaching with a few other of the guards behind him.

When Phoebus saw who it was that they had draped over the back of one of the horses, he tried not to look angry.

"What just happened here?" he asked, already knowing.

Yvon and Jean exchanged glances.

"Nothing outside of the ordinary. We just finally caught the demon's daughter that Frollo's been chiding at us to get," Yvon reached down and yanked the girl's head up by her ponytail, making her face visible to the captain under the light of the moon, "See? It's who we were telling you about earlier."

"I see who it is," Phoebus answered, trying not to sound irritated, "I would appreciated next time though you alerting me of your plan of action before gathering troops like this."

Yvon scowled.

"We did not want to waste any more time, Sir. When Jean saw her enter the cottage about a fifteen minutes ago, he immediately came to me and these men and we were after her," he explained, trying to keep his voice even.

Phoebus nodded solemnly, knowing that there would be no point to argue. Even though he held power over them, they were following orders from someone whose clutches were far more iron than his own.

"I see…" he said then, obvious disapproval in his voice. There was nothing more he could do about this. He had done the best he could and still it had not been enough. It was out of his hands from here.

With that, they all began to ride off towards the Palace of Justice, Belle's body tossing about the horse's back like a hopeless rag doll.

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><p><strong>AN: **

**Yep! The chapter title is indeed a Phantom of the Opera reference!  
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**Well, despite the unfortunate events that occurred in this chapter, I hope you liked it! I'm glad I got to sneak Clopin in there, he's always such a fun character to write. I'll work on my next update not taking so long - I know how frustrating that is and I'm sorry. Midterms don't make this any easier.**

**Haha sorry, I couldn't help but include the 'Achilles, _heel_!' joke. It was just too tempting =P  
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**Anyways, thank you so much for all who reviewed! It always puts me in such a good mood! Please keep it up with telling me your thoughts and opinions!**

**And, keep an eye peeled - I plan on starting another story up here pretty soon! (:**

**Thank you for sticking with this!**

**-QLB  
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